A Song of Fairies
by TheBobcat18
Summary: A normal day at Fairy Tail turns into a struggle to survive as Natsu and his friends are taken to Westeros by an unknown spell book. Trapped in different areas of the world, each struggles to not only find their friends but also to simply survive in a deadly chess match with human pieces known as the Game of Thrones. A rewrite of Game of Fairies.
1. Prologue

**Hello Everybody! I'm back at with some Fairy Tail and Game of Thrones! For those of you coming over from the original draft of this story, welcome back! Glad to see you all here! For a newbies, get ready for a rollercoaster ride. It's gonna be a crazy one!**

 **Before starting this story, I just want to get some things out of the way. In the original draft, I had a lot of characters. That has changed. I decided to streamline the story and make it easier to both follow and connect together. Game of Thrones is already massive, adding twelve plus more characters into made it even messier than it really should've been. I also decided to fix several character motivations and plot points in order to make the story make more sense and to help it be a little more cohesive. Finally, the tone of this story will be interesting. Fairy Tail and Game of Thrones have completely different tones. One is a very lighthearted adventure (With some somber moments), the other rips your heart out… stabs it repeatedly, then makes you curl up into a ball and cry. So that is going to be difficult to navigate, but I will do my absolute best for you guys.**

 **Alright… now that is out of the way, without further ado, I present A Song of Fairies!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Prologue

He ducked under a wild punch before quickly scrambling behind a large wooden crate that was nestled alongside the wide canal that bisected the small city of Magnolia. Beads of sweat beaded down his tan face as he frantically evaded another flailing punch.

"Geez Luce!" A pink haired teenage boy with frightened eyes stammered as he scrambled around the crate while a furious blonde woman gave chase, "I didn't think you'd get so offended by that!"

"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO BREAK INTO MY HOUSE!" The blonde roared as she sprinted after the pink haired boy. Although, she wasn't faring well in the chase. Her legs were held back by the small skirt that covered her waist and thighs. Add in the heaviness of her long brown boots, and she was honestly surprised that she could keep up with the fleeing boy at all.

 _Mental note._ The Blonde thought, _Wear clothes that actually help me run for a change!_

"NATSUUUUU!" She roared again as the boy skidded to a halt and turned a corner.

"I didn't do anything I haven't done before Lucy!" Natsu cried.

Above him, a blue cat wearing a green knapsack and an amused smirk hovered. Angelic white wings watching holding him aloft as the chase unfolded.

"He really went and did it this time." The cat muttered to itself before another loud crash echoed through Magnolia.

"You mean to tell me you've gone through my underwear drawer before!?"

A bead of sweat dropped from the side of the blue cat's face.

"No! That was Erza!"

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!"

"PLEASE DON'T HURT ME LUCY!"

The sound of a second pair of wings beating against the wind attracted the cheerful blue cat's attention. Beside him, hovered a white cat. A disapproving expression covered her face as her small arms folded across her body.

"I swear your friend has no scruples." The white cat huffed.

"Uh…" The blue cat gulped, glanced at the chase, then back at it's fellow feline companion, "What does that mean?" He asked sheepishly.

"It means he doesn't have any morals, Happy." The White Cat frowned, "And to think Wendy admires that buffoon."

"Hey! Natsu isn't a buffoon!" The blue cat named Happy cried defensively.

"Keep yourself in denial all you want." The white cat shrugged, "It doesn't change the facts." Another loud crash followed by some angry cries drew both of their gazes back down to the streets below them, "It appears Natsu is trying to get to the guild hall."

"You're right on that one Carla." Happy smiled. He then nervously gripped his small paws behind his back, "If you want I can escort you back to the guild hall."

"I can make my way there just fine, thank you very much." Carla said dismissively before jetting off towards a large building that dominated the city skyline.

It resembled a large castle. Large battlements protruded along the sides of the three storied stone structure. A small tower like dome that housed a large bell capped the massive structure. Along the sides of the battlements, torches sat unlit, waiting for night to fall over the city. And alongside those torches flapped a single, bright orange banner with a white symbol stitched into the center.

It was easily the largest building in Magnolia. The only other structure that could compete was just down the road; a large cathedral that the two cats had just zoomed past as they attempted to keep pace with the blonde and the pinkette below them.

The chase rushed underneath a small archway that served as the main entrance to the guild hall grounds. Above the archway, in colorful letter was the name of the guild hall. A name that everyone in the country of Fiore knew. Every citizen either adored the name, or despised the name. It was both famous and infamous.

Fairy Tail.

A wizard guild. A place where mages from all over the world could come and seek fame and fortune. A building where they could find work, make everlasting friendships, and have the occasional drink. It was a loud, rambunctious place. Filled with colorful people. All with different magics and stories. Different experiences and attitudes. All in one building. A building that was about to become ground zero for the chase between Lucy Heartfilia and Natsu Dragneel.

The pair passed beneath the archway. The pink haired boy scrambled up the stone steps, his chest heaving as he sucked in air. Behind him, Lucy charged like an angry bull. Eyes narrowed. Her entire being focused solely on delivering punishment that had been a long time coming.

Natsu couldn't understand why she was so mad. It hadn't been the first time he had broken into her house. In fact, it was nearly a daily occurrence for him to slip in through the window. Half the time, it was to grab her and take her out on a job request from the guild. The other half of the time was because he thought her apartment was way more comfortable than his own little shack outside of town. Needless to say, those were not very good excuses.

Normally, the blonde would throw an irritated tantrum at Natsu's antics before reluctantly accepting them and moving on with the day. But today was different. Today Natsu made a mistake. He dared to peek into Lucy's dresser. And he dared to find a secret manuscript that she had kept hidden in her underwear drawer of all places. She caught him reading it when she arrived home from the guildhall earlier in the day.

And all of that led to now. Natsu, busting the guild hall doors open with his foot as he rushed inside to find a hiding place. Hot on his heels, Lucy barreled in, red faced and breathing heavily. All movement in the guildhall stopped. Every set of eyes turned to stare at the blonde.

"Where." Lucy began, "Is. He?"

Every hand pointed to a booth hidden in the corner of the large dining hall that made up the ground floor of Fairy Tail. Lucy's eyes narrowed and she stomped towards the booth, her feet pounding against the hard stone floor, hands clenched tightly at her sides. Her teeth creaking as she ground them together.

She came to an abrupt halt in front of the booth. Her left boot tapping against the stone floor. The only noise heard in the guild hall, other than a nervous cough from one of the other wizards as everyone watched and waited. Beneath the table, quivered Natsu.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Natsu." Lucy snarled, her foot still tapping, her hands falling gently onto the table and her fingers curling around the edges.

Natsu's head peaked out from beneath the table, "Is there a third option?"

"NO!" Lucy roared and she heaved the table to the side and pounced on Natsu.

Just as she was about to pound him into the floor, Lucy suddenly felt the air around her go cold. Goosebumps formed on her skin as she felt a penetrating stare pierce her. With her fist still inches away from Natsu's nose, she slowly glanced behind her to see another woman.

This woman wore full battle armor. A steel breastplate with the Heart Kruetz symbol engraved into the side covered her athletic body. A long blue skirt covered her legs while her feet were nestled inside knee high black boots. At her hip rested a sword, hidden inside a leather sheath. Long scarlet hair rested on her armored shoulders while disapproving brown eyes focused on both Lucy and Natsu.

"Lucy…" She spoke, her voice commanding everyone's attention instantly, "Natsu…" The pink haired boy gulped and began to visibly tremble.

"Y-yeah E-erza?" He gulped.

The red head strode up to the pair.

"NO FIGHTING IN THE GUILD HALL!" She bellowed as she grabbed them both and tossed them up into the ceiling.

"It wasn't even my fault!" Lucy cried as she flew through the air.

"GAAAAAH!" Natsu screamed before colliding into a shirtless, raven haired man.

"Watch it, Ash Mouth!" The raven haired man snarled as he jerked Natsu off of his back.

"Eat my fist, Ice Pop!" Natsu suddenly roared.

Chairs began to fly. Tables flipped over and shattered into splinters of the floor. Mugs of beer were flung across the room or used as clubs to bludgeon opponents as an all out brawl ensued. In the rafters above the brawl, was Lucy, draped precariously over a wooden beam.

"Someone please get me down." She whimpered.

Just as the brawl was about to go completely out of control, Erza's booming voice echoed over the entire building.

"I SAID!" Her body was covered in a golden light. And as she shimmered, everyone froze. She soon reappeared, a new set of armor on her body. It consisted of a revealing set of plates covering her chest and torso, but leaving her stomach bare. A skirt that was seemingly made of a million metal plates covered her lower body while wings made of swords sprouted from her back. Around her hovered twelve swords, drifting dangerously in a circle above her head, "No fighting in the guild hall." She finished more quietly, now that she had everyone's attention.

"Aye sir!" Everyone quickly said before scrambling to put the guild hall back together.

Erza nodded. Her body shimmered once again and she reappeared in her normal set of armor. A long sigh escaped her lips before she rubbed her forehead and sat down in a booth beside her. A booth that was also occupied by a young, blue haired girl who had been using the someone sturdy table as cover.

"Is it over?" The small girl asked, her brown eyes carefully peaking out from beneath the table.

"Yes, Wendy, it's over."

"Thank goodness." The young girl breathed as she emerged from beneath the table and returned to her seat across from Erza, "That was crazy."

"Well… I apologize for all of that." Erza said sweetly.

"I had heard that Fairy Tail was a rowdy place." Carla said as she drifted down from the air and came to a rest beside Wendy, "But I never imagined that it was this insane." She glanced at the young girl beside her, "Maybe we should reconsider what we are doing here?"

"N-No." Wendy stammered, "I didn't really mind it at all. It just surprised me, that's all."

"Well don't worry Wendy." Erza reassured, "I'll make sure that it isn't as dangerous for you here. The brawls can get out of hand," Her brown eyes glared over at Natsu and the Raven Haired man, another teenager name Gray Fullbuster, "Especially when those two cause it." As she glared at them, the two wrapped arms around each other and acted as if they were best friends.

"Thank you, Miss Erza." Wendy smiled.

Above them, Happy grunted, his wings beating furiously as he slowly lowered Lucy to the ground beside Erza and Wendy's table.

"Geez, Lucy!" Happy gasped as the blonde touched the ground, "You are heavy!"

"I am not fat!" Lucy screamed before folding her arms and taking a seat beside Erza.

"Bad day?" Erza asked.

"Horrible day." Lucy replied.

"May I ask why?" The redhead inquired.

"Oh just go ask Natsu, I'm sure he'll tell you everything." Lucy huffed.

"What did he do?" Erza asked, brown eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Oh he just went through my underwear drawer and read my manuscript!" Lucy growled.

Both Erza and Wendy blinked.

"You have a manuscript?" Wendy asked.

"What pair of underwear did he find and where can I get it?" Erza asked.

Lucy groaned and buried her head in her arms.

"Could this day get any worse?"

"It's about to get better, Luce!"

The blonde's head jerked up to see Natsu grinning widely at her. As if nothing had ever happened between the two. And in his hand was a thin piece of paper.

"I don't want to talk right now Natsu." Lucy sighed.

"Well, you don't have to. Cause I found us a job!" Natsu smiled widely, placing his hands on his hips.

Lucy just placed her head onto the table again.

"I don't feel like it." Lucy mumbled.

Natsu blinked, "You don't feel like earning a million jewel?"

Lucy jumped to her feet and clutched the collar of Natsu's black and gold waistcoat, "Did you just say a million jewel!?"

Erza's eyes were practically popping out of her skull. Wendy looked at the piece of paper in Natsu's had slack jawed. And Gray Fullbuster grumbled off to the side. From what Wendy heard, it sounded like he said something about calling dibs on that job first.

"Uh, yeah." Natsu replied.

"Lemme see!" Lucy exclaimed as she grabbed the paper from Natsu's hand and poured over the information on it, "Lost treasure…. Monsters…. City… Ice and Fire… Spirits…" She looked up from the page, "This is insane."

"Insanely awesome!" Natsu smiled.

Erza snagged the page from Lucy. She quickly scanned it before glancing at the boy, "Did you take this from the S-class wall?"

Natsu shook his head, "Nope! It was on the regular wall."

Erza frowned, "How is this not an S-class request?" She muttered before sighing, "Well, this one sounds dangerous." She rose from her seat, "So you will not be going alone."

"Aw come on, Erza!" Natsu stomped his foot, "Me and Lucy can handle it."

"I can't handle a normal job with you let alone that one." Lucy mumbled to the side.

"Do not argue Natsu." Erza replied sharply, "This is a very dangerous mission from the looks of the request. And I don't want to see anyone get seriously hurt." She then glanced over at Gray, "Gray! There is something about Ice in this. We may need your help."

Gray was about to nod when his dark eyes glanced at Natsu, "Do I have to work with him again?"

"Yeah!" Natsu shouted, "I don't wanna have to work with him!"

"You will work together and you will like it." Erza snarled.

"A-aye sir." Both Gray and Natsu gulped.

Erza nodded in approval before turning to Wendy, "You haven't gone on a guild job yet have you?" The blue haired girl shook her head, "Do you want to come along?"

"Absolutely not!" Carla instantly declared, "You just got through saying how dangerous this job could be. Wendy is not ready."

"I'll go." Wendy replied quietly. Carla shot her an anxious look, "It can't be as dangerous as Nirvana."

"That's the spirit!" Natsu grinned.

Carla sighed, "Very well. But you will stay close to Miss Erza the entire time."

"Right." Wendy nodded.

"Alright, it's settled then." Erza rose from her seat, "We have our team."

"Alright!" Natsu cheered, "Let's get started!"

He charged towards the doors but was then suddenly yanked back by Erza.

"Not quite." Erza said calmly as she gripped the back of Natsu's waistcoat, "This isn't a job we can do without the proper information. There was something about strange monsters and spirits in this."

"So?" Natsu asked, "We can just beat them up."

"I'm pretty sure you can't beat up a spirit Natsu." Lucy deadpanned.

"You don't know until you've tried." Natsu grumbled.

"Lucy is correct Natsu. We need to look some stuff up. I say we go see Levy. She may have some information that we need."

"Aye!" Everyone else nodded in agreement.

….

Like with everything in life, Natsu didn't waste time to politely knock on the door of Levy McGarden's home. Instead, he barreled through the door just like he did with any other house.

"Hey Levy! Where are ya!?" Natsu called as he entered a house that was filled with books stacked floor to ceiling.

A gauntlet covered hand smacked him upside the head.

"Be respectful and knock first!" Erza scolded.

"OW!" Natsu howled before rubbing the back of his head, "Yes ma'am."

The others slowly filed into the crowded living room of Levy's house. Each person carefully navigating around books that were stacked in precariously balanced towers around them. Lucy's eyes widened in wonder as she looked around the house. She was an avid reader and absolutely loved books. Her favorites were adventure novels. The feeling of escape she got whenever reading one took her breath away. Every so often, her concentration drifted away from searching for Levy and went towards scanning the many different titles around her.

There was so many that she couldn't ever hope to see them all. Books on mathematics, science, and history. Fantasy novels, romance novels, science fiction, mysteries, atlas's and biographies. The collection Levy had created boggled her mind.

 _One day I'll have just as much._ Lucy thought, _And maybe some will be written by me too._

"Levy!" Natsu called again, "Where are ya."

"Back here!" A muffled voice called from the next room over.

All five wizards slowly made their way to the next room. Hopping over stacks of books and weaving between the many towers as they made their way over. Inside the next room was a small twin bed surrounded by more stacks of books. Sitting in the one area of open space were three women.

The first was Levy McGarden. Her short blue hair held out of her face by a read headband. Red spectacles sat on the bridge of her nose and a thick, leather bound book was clutched in her petite hands. Sitting beside her was Cana Alberona. Long brown hair falling haphazardly around her curvaceous body while her lips were sealed around the mouth of a liquor bottle. Lastly was a white haired woman wearing a maroon dress. She smiled sweetly at the five newcomers and waved for them to come on in.

"Hello everyone." she smiled.

"Hey Mira!" Natsu waved.

"Hi Mira!" Lucy smiled

Gray simply waved while Wendy stayed hidden behind Erza. Still slightly afraid to introduce herself to her new guild mates. Erza glanced at Mirajane Strauss and nodded curtly before taking a seat beside Cana.

"Ahhhh." Cana sighed as she gulped down another long swig, "Good stuff."

"What are you reading Levy?" Lucy asked.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Levy replied, her brow furrowing in frustration as she flipped the book over in her hands, "I can't get it to open." she then gestured towards Mira and Cana, "They stopped by before you guys and offered to help."

"But we can't get the damn thing to open either." Cana stated.

"Language!" Carla exclaimed as she covered Wendy's ears, "There are young children here."

"Whatever." Cana shrugged before taking another drink.

"Maybe we can help?" Gray said.

"Um…. how?" Natsu asked.

"I don't know flame brain. You got any suggestions."

"Don't start you two." Erza warned. She returned her attention to the beaten book in Levy's hands, "Perhaps there is a spell on it?"

"That's what I'm thinking too." Levy replied, "But I'm not sure what kind of spell. Obviously some kind of sealing spell. But I don't know if there are any others on it. Like charms or dangerous trap spells or stuff like that."

"She's been examining the book for the past hour trying to solve that part of the puzzle." Mira noted.

"Any clues on the outside?" Erza asked.

"Nothing but a red 'M'." Levy replied turning the book over so everyone could see the fancy M engraved on the binding of the thick book. She sighed and held the book out to the others, "Perhaps you guy could try and figure it out?"

"Sure!" Natsu snatched the book from Levy's hands and proceed to attempt to pry the pages open.

"No, you idiot!" Gray growled and he grabbed the book away from Natsu, "You're gonna tear it!"

"Am not!" Natsu shouted as he shoved Gray and stole the book back, "You'd just freeze it, snowflake!"

"And you'd burn it, fire breath!" Gray argued as he gripped the other side of the book, "So hand it over so that doesn't happen!"

"No!" Natsu shouted, "I'm gonna help."

"Both of you knock it off! Now!" Erza roared.

Surprisingly, neither Gray nor Natsu heard her. The two shouted at each other once more before yanking. Both of their magic powers flared to life. Ice crept over the leather from Gray's hands while fire licked the leather from Natsu's hands.

"Oh no!" Lucy gasped.

"Stop it you two!" Cana bellowed.

Just as Erza was about to intervene, the book began to glow. Both Natsu and Gray froze, eyes glued to the glowing book. Suddenly, a large shock wave blasted everyone away from the book and sent them all falling into the piles of novels around them. The leather bound pages flipped open. Ancient pages, stained with age began turning rapidly. All the while, the book's glow grew bright.

"What is going on!?" Levy shouted as a wind began to howl around them, drowning out everybody's voices.

"I don't know!" Erza shouted as Wendy grabbed hold of her arm, "Hang on Wendy!"

It felt like a small hurricane was tearing through the room. The book began to rotate in the air, slowly at first. Then it gained speed. As it did a small black orb began to form above the pages.

"WHAT IS THAT!?" Lucy screamed as she felt her feet being lifted off of the floor by the wind.

"Grab hold of something!" Erza barked.

But too late. Wendy screamed in terror as her and Carla were sucked towards the orb that continued to grow larger above the book.

"WENDY!" Erza shouted, "Hold on!" Erza reached for the small girl, but missed her hand by a hairs breadth. The girl screeched as the orb swallowed her and Carla.

"WENDY!" Natsu roared, letting go of the bedpost he was holding on to and diving towards the orb.

"Damn it all!" Gray shouted, his voice drowned out by the howling wind.

"Natsu!" Lucy shouted as she lost her grip on the door and flew towards the orb after him.

One by one, the black orb engulfed everyone in the room. Happy dove into it after Natsu and Lucy, vowing to rescue Carla while not mentioning his own best friend. Levy screamed and was dragged in along with Cana and Mira. Gray cursed and felt his own grip on Levy's dresser slip. Blackness engulfed him as well.

Erza was the last victim of the black orb. She fought with all her strength to stay in place. Her muscles straining to keep her latched onto the bedpost. But all her strength was not enough. And just as it had with her friends, the book consumed her too.

 **And chapter! That's the prologue folks. As anyone who is coming over from Game of Fairies can see, a lot of characters were cut out from this first portion. I have my reasons don't worry. They will all come into the story eventually, just not immediately.**

 **In case you all didn't notice. This takes place shortly after the Oracion Seis Arc. That's why Wendy is still shy around the guild members. Think of it as another full arc in the Fairy Tail storyline before the Edolas arc (Only this arc being waaaay darker than any other).**

 **Anyways, I'm super excited to restart this story! Let me know what you guys think so far! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	2. Erza I

**Alright! Two chapters in one day! I haven't done that for any story in forever! Feels good to do it again!**

 **Before we start, I just wanna say some things. First off, we are going to start pre War of the Seven Kings. That allows time for our characters to get ingrained into Westeros, build relationships, at least make an attempt to find their friends and get a lay of the land. After several chapters, we will get into the meat of Game of Thrones. And it is going to be amazing! I can't wait!  
Anyways, let's get started!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

Wind whipped over her body, carrying a sudden chill that made any exposed skin shrivel into goosebumps. Her body trembled as the soft kiss of snow falling onto her face and neck awoke her. Brown eyes scanned the grey skies above her, puzzled at the sudden change in weather.

 _Since when does it snow in Magnolia during this time of year?_ Erza thought.

Another icy wind whipped by her, causing her to shake in her armor. Her teeth began to chatter a little as she eased herself upright. A throbbing pain rushed up from her lower back, causing her to groan. A piercing headache filled her world. It was like a hammer pounding against the inside of her skull. A pain so brilliant that it forced her to shut her eyes momentarily in order to steady herself.

She took a couple quick breaths before forcing her eyes open. Snow shifted off of her armored shoulders as she twisted around to look at her surroundings.

There was nothing but snow. Snow and trees and more snow. Her head titled as she glanced around her.

 _Where am I?_

This forest looked unlike any she had ever seen before. Fiore was usually a temperate to tropical place. The only area Erza knew of that had this much snowfall was Mount Hakobe. And she didn't see any mountains nearby. Everything looked foreign to her. Even the grey sky above her looked strange. She shook her head and rose to her feet, the pounding in her head turning into a dull throb as she blocked out the pain.

 _I won't figure out where I am unless I have a look around._ She thought before taking a few steps forward.

A long groan left her lips as he muscles stiffened. She felt like tiny pins were pricking her legs and arms as she attempted to move. Add in the biting cold, and Erza felt completely miserable.

"Perhaps an outfit that is more appropriate for my environment." She muttered under her breath.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, calling on her vast magic power. She waited several moments, breath held as she anticipated the familiar feel and glow of her requip magic.

Nothing happened.

Her brown eyes slowly opened and she glanced down to see she was still wearing the same armor as before. Another shiver crawled up her spine.

"What the hell?" Erza muttered before trying again. Only to get the same results, "My magic isn't working?" She gulped in a panicked breath before quickly exhaling, "Don't lose your head Erza. You'll figure this out. Just get moving."

Without another word, she moved. Her boots sinking into the powdery snow beneath her feet. The cold only grew worse as the sky darkened above her. Her breath misted out in front of her face while her arms continuously rubbed her body. It felt like hours and she had not seen a single new thing. Just more snow and more trees.

"I'm getting nowhere fast." She grumbled, rubbing her hands together as she felt her fingers beginning to go numb.

But she had no choice. It was either move, or let the cold and snow consume her. Erza Scarlet was not about to submit to a foreign environment. And so she pressed on, taking a few more steps in the direction she had been walking.

A high pitched scream broke the silence around her. Erza ground to a halt, her entire body turning in the direction of the scream. It was followed by one howl. Then two howls. Then three. Erza's blood ran cold.

 _Wolves._

Another loud scream filled the frigid air. Erza took off. Her body bounding in the direction of the screams and howls. All aches and pains in her body forgotten.

The forest in around her began to thin out and open up into a frozen plain. Long grass blades jutted up from small piles of snow. Cutting through the icy field was a muddy road that seemed entirely abandoned. Erza paused and waited.

A third scream pierced the air. Then Erza saw them. A little girl with dark brown hair and pale skin sprinting towards the road. Behind her, a pack of wolves. Teeth gnashing, ready to make a kill.

 _Not on my watch._

Erza rushed towards the girl. On instinct, she called upon her magic. Only to feel that same emptiness once again. A curse left Erza's lips before she decided to draw the sword that she had at her hip. She could see the little girl's eyes widened both in surprise and fear. She stumbled and fell backwards, landing hard on the gravelly road beneath her.

A triumphant howl left the lead wolf's lips before they curled back, brandishing wicked jaws still stained red from a previous kill. Just as the wolf was about to leap through the air and pounce on the small girl, Erza got in the way. The flat of her blade caught the wolf by the mouth. With a mighty cry, Erza tossed the wolf away before drawing back to defend the little girl behind her.

Her eyes darted from one wolf to another as they pack encircled her, snarling and snapping their jaws. Each evaluating this new, red haired threat that had come between them and their prey. The little girl clung to Erza's blue skirt. Allowing Erza to stay between her and the wolves.

The alpha rose back to it's feet and growled. It's paws padding towards Erza, hairs bristling as it sought it's vengeance.

"Get back!" Erza barked, her commanding voice causing each wolf to hesitate. Even the alpha seemed uncertain as the knight brandished her blade in front of her.

But the alpha could not admit defeat. It snarled again before charging. The other wolves followed. Erza's eyes widened. One wolf at a time, she could handle. But without her magic, the entire pack at once? She gulped and spun around to try and defend the small girl.

A hiss filled the air followed by a loud whine of pain. Erza glanced to the alpha and saw a black arrow protruding from its right haunch. Another arrow whizzed by Erza, narrowly missing her head, before piercing the alpha's skull with a loud thud. As the alpha wolf fell dead into the road, the other wolves broke off their charge, uncertain of what to do with an entirely new threat.

That threat came in the form of five horsemen. And as they approached, the wolves cut their losses.

Erza turned around, placing the girl behind her as the horsemen drew closer. The first was a younger man. Dark curly hair rested atop his head and a small beard lined his chin. He wore rich furs over his shoulders as well as a dark tunic beneath the thick coat. Beside him rode an older man with chestnut colored hair and a graying beard. Dark eyes thick with fear and worry. At his hip was an enormous blade. The third rider was a thin boy with light brown hair and a thin goatee. A mischievous gleam filled his eyes. The fourth rider appeared to be merely a foot soldier wearing chain mail and tunic. The tunic had the head of a gray wolf stitched into it. The final rider was another young man with jet black hair and a beard that clung to his jaw. His dark eyes looked at the little girl in worry before darting to Erza. His expression changing from worry to anger.

The riders encircled Erza and the little girl. Three of the men, the guard included, drew blades. The mischievous looking one knocked an arrow. Finally, the eldest dropped down from his horse. As soon as his booted feet touched the ground, the little girl broke away from Erza and rushed towards the older man who enveloped her in a large hug. The action caused the other riders to relax in their saddles. But none of their wary gazes left Erza.

The older man whispered something to the girl before hoisting her up onto his dark horse. He then turned to look at Erza. She could see the uncertainty and surprise in his cold gaze. She also noticed that his hand was not leaving the pommel of the enormous blade at his hip. So she kept on guard. While she did lower her own sword, she refused to sheath it. These were people she did now know, in a place that she was unfamiliar with. In Erza's mind, it was best to exercise extreme caution.

"Who are you?" The oldest man asked. His powerful voice reverberating in Erza's ears.

Erza raised her chin, "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Watch your tone, woman! You're speaking to the Lord of Winterfell!" The thinnest boy snapped as he tightened his arrow in his bow.

The older man raised a hand, as if ordering the boy to stand down. He carefully approached Erza.

"Not from around here, are you?" He asked, his tone taking a more gentle approach.

Erza glanced back at the other four riders, who maintained their threatening appearance, "Not really." She replied.

The man nodded, "An interesting day this has become. First my youngest daughter runs off into the woods and I can't find her. Then a young woman with red hair and armor arrives and rescues her from a pack of feral wolves." He glanced back at the other riders, "I have half a mind to think I'm living one of those songs you four sing with the men in the barracks."

A light chuckle left the first rider's lips. The final rider remained sullen, his eyes never leaving Erza or her sword.

The older man turned back to Erza, "Regardless of who you may be and where you are from, you saved my little Arya. And for that, I am eternally grateful."

Erza blinked then smiled, "I just did what anyone else would've done." She replied. She then jumped. _I'm speaking to a Lord. I must be respectful._ "Um… My Lord?" She finished, uncertain if she addressed him correctly.

The man smiled, "May I ask your name once more?"

Erza glanced again at the horsemen. She noticed that now, their swords were sheathed. The bowman had removed his arrow from the string. They all seemed much more relaxed.

"Erza Scarlet." She replied, holding out her hand for the man to shake.

The man glanced confused at her hand before taking it and shaking it firmly.

"Thank you once again, Lady Scarlet." He strode back to his horse and quickly jumped into saddle, "Jon!"

The last rider clopped forward.

"Yes, Lord Stark?" He asked quietly.

"Lady Scarlet does not have a horse, and I wish to give her a proper reward for her bravery." Lord Stark turned his horse towards the road while Arya smiled up at him, "She will ride with you."

"Yes, my lord." The young man named Jon replied before trotting up to Erza. He quickly held out a hand for her, "Need a lift."

To his great surprise, Erza jumped up onto the horse herself. She settled in behind Jon.

"I think I can handle it just fine." She replied.

Off to the side, she noticed the thin boy and his dark haired companion chuckling quietly. Jon didn't say another word as he turned his horse and fell in line behind the others.

….

The small group of riders rode for several minutes before the road turned from mud to cobblestone. Then Erza saw it.

In the distance arose a massive castle. Great stone towers rose out of the frozen fields. Surrounding the towers and keep were thick stone walls and a small village that was nestled just outside of the castle. When the riders made their way into the village, the common folk paused what they were doing to look at Lord Stark returning. Their faces turned into surprise and confusion when they saw Erza riding on the same horse as Jon. The perplexed glances being shot her way caused Erza to shift nervously in her seat.

"Relax, Lady Scarlet." Jon said quietly, "There's nothing to worry about."

"They're giving me funny looks." Erza replied as she watched the townspeople stare at her, jaws hanging open.

"It's not often a woman wearing armor rides into Winterfell." Jon replied.

"Let alone one has beautiful as yourself." The thin boy with brown hair smirked back at them.

"Keep riding, Theon." Jon quickly growled while the boy just laughed loudly before sending his horse into a gallop towards the castle gate.

The five riders quickly trotted into the castle courtyard. Upon entering, multiple servants rushed towards them and quickly took the reins of the horses while all five riders and their passengers dismounted. Once again, Jon offered his assistance to which Erza replied by easily getting off of the horse herself.

The doors to the castle creaked open. A middle aged woman with auburn hair and blue eyes and wearing a thick, dark colored dress and furs rushed out. She immediately sprinted over to Arya and wrapped her tightly in a hug.

"Don't you dare run off like that again young lady." She breathed as she held the little girl.

"I'm sorry mother." Arya whimpered.

Another long sigh left the woman's lips before she ended her embrace, "I'm just happy you are safe." She held Arya's shoulders, "Now inside with you. Septa Mordane has been fretting all day about your missed lessons."

A long groan left Arya's chest as she reluctantly shuffled into the castle. Once Arya was inside, the woman strode up to Lord Stark and embraced him as well. The two quickly sharing a small kiss.

"Where did you find her?" She asked.

"She was at the edge of the Wolfswood, several miles north." He replied before turning to motion for Erza to come closer, "And I wasn't the one that found her."

Erza walked up and found herself on the receiving end of an icy stare from the woman.

"Who might this be, Ned?" She asked coldly.

"This is Lady Erza Scarlet. She arrived in time to get between our daughter and a pack of wolves." Lord Stark replied, "If it wasn't for her. Arya might not be here now."

The woman's gaze visibly softened.

"Did she?" The woman bowed to Erza, "Thank you so much Lady Scarlet. I apologize for my demeanor."

Erza shook her head, "It's alright um… Lady Stark?"

The woman nodded and turned back to Ned, "I assume you wish to hold a feast in her honor?"

He nodded, "A small one yes."

"Well then, I'll inform the kitchens. I will also have the servants prepare a room for Lady Scarlet. As well as some fresh clothes. Now come inside, it is bitter out here."

Once inside, the five riders went their separate ways. Lord Stark retreated towards a study where an old man wearing white robes and a long linked chain awaited him. Jon remained outside of the castle with the guard that rode with them. Meanwhile, Theon and his dark haired companion rushed towards what appeared to be the stables.

As all of this occurred, Erza was whisked away by a pair of servants who guided her through the castle.

Erza's jaw continued to fall open as she took in her new surroundings. Despite the frozen conditions outside, the air inside of the castle was shockingly warm. There were several fires burning in many fireplaces, but there was no way that they produced this much heat. For a single moment, Erza placed her hand against the stone walls and found them warm to the touch.

 _Interesting._

She was eventually escorted into a large guest room. Inside were several basic furnishings, including a fireplace, a table with two wooden chairs, a dresser, a nightstand, and a large bed covered in heavy fur blankets. One of the servants quickly got a fire going in the fireplace before all of them exited, except for two female servants. It was then that Erza noticed the wooden tub near the fireplace.

"Oh." She mouthed.

The pair of servants moved to unbuckle her armor. Erza jerked away from their hands startling both of them.

"Please don't I-" Erza took a calming breath, "I can do this myself. You all deserve a break or something. Thank you for helping though."

Both servants bowed and quickly exited the room, leaving Erza alone.

Now she could think. At least attempt to piece together what was going on. She didn't have the weather to contend with anymore. Erza glanced at the tub of water and sighed.

 _A warm bath would do me some good I suppose._

She first attempted to requip out of her armor. This time, she felt the familiar buzz of her magic come over her body. Her fist clenched tightly at her sides and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her power to the surface. In the end though, nothing happened again. She took a heavy breath and stumbled back due to the strain.

"What in the world is wrong with my magic?" she muttered to herself before shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, "Ugh… this is bad."

After going through the painfully slow task of unbuckling her armor and setting it carefully to the side, she slipped into the warm bath water and used the brush nearby to scrub herself clean. As she sat in the water she pondered what was going on.

 _I'm no where near Magnolia, that's a certainty._ She thought, _It's winter here. But it's almost summer in Fiore._ She rubbed her chin, _Wait a moment! What if-_ She recalled the events at Levy's house. The strange book that opened when Gray and Natsu grabbed hold of it. The black orb of strange magic that had devoured everyone in the room. Erza's eyes widened and her pupils shrank, _Have I been transported somewhere?_

 __A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in." Erza called.

The door opened and Theon's dark haired companion entered.

"I'm here to-" He paused as he saw Erza sitting nude in her bath. After an awkward second he quickly averted his eyes, "I apologize Lady Scarlet, I thought you were decent."

"It's alright." Erza replied as she rose from the bath and made her way over to the bed where she saw a robe waiting for her. She quickly slipped it onto her shoulders and covered herself. "Hm… I suppose I'll wear my armor."

"There should be some clothes in the wardrobe." The man suggested.

"I prefer my armor, but thank you." Erza replied as she went over to her neatly folded clothes and began to slip them on, "So… what are you here for again?"

"Um…" She could see a large blush on his cheeks as she changed, "I am here to escort you to dinner." He gulped, "My um… father told me to."

"Father?"

"Lord Stark."

Erza blinked, "Oh! I apologize for not being a little more formal." She replied as she finished strapping her armor on.

"There is nothing to apologize for. You had no way of knowing." The man replied, "My name is Robb."

"Robb." Erza repeated, "I'll do my best to remember it."

Robb smirked, "I hope so." He held out his arm for her, "Shall we?"

Erza nodded then hesitantly held onto his arm. The pair quickly exited Erza's room and made their way through the gray halls of Winterfell.

"How is this place so warm?" Erza suddenly asked as they walked.

"There is a hot spring beneath the castle." Robb explained, "It pumps warm water through the walls." He smiled, "It must be a strange thing to hear and see for an outsider."

"You've got no idea." Erza gaped at the walls.

The pair eventually entered a large room. Inside was a long table neatly set with porcelain plates and silverware. Robb guided Erza over to a seat alongside a large wooden chair. He then took his seat beside her. Next to him was a young boy with equally dark hair and a curious gleam in his eyes. Beside him was a Arya. The little girl flashed a bright smile to Erza and waved. Next to Arya was an older girl, around thirteen years old, with the same auburn colored hair as Lady Stark. She quickly glanced at Erza before turning to speak to the youngest diner, a little boy no more than six years old.

After several more moments, Erza saw Lord and Lady Stark enter. Lady Stark to a seat to the right of her husband while Lord Stark sat in the large seat to Erza's right. Then the doors opened allowing the rest of the castle residents to find a seat at the table. Eventually the food was delivered and the feast became a lively affair. Diners talked loudly to one another and drank merrily. Arya and the other boy that Erza assumed was another child of Lord Stark spoke excitedly while taking quick peeks up at Erza.

Sometime during the third course of the meal, Lord Stark rose to his feet, prompting the entire hall to fall silent. He raised his own glass of wine.

"A toast!" He gestured to Erza, "To Lady Erza Scarlet, who rescued my daughter Arya from a pack of wolves!"

A raucous cheer arose from those in attendance. Erza smiled and waved before continuing to eat her food in silence. As she ate, she saw the other Stark children continuing to give her curious glances along with some of the other servants. Erza turned to look at the three other children.

"Is there something on my face?" She asked.

"N-no!" The young boy beside Arya stammered.

"Don't be so intimidated Bran." Arya teased, "She's really nice and amazing! Like a real knight!"

"A woman cannot possibly be a real knight." The auburn haired girl beside Arya commented.

"And why not?" Erza suddenly asked.

"Yeah," Arya looked at the older girl with a triumphant smile, "Why not, Sansa?"

"A woman's place is at home. Raising children and attending her husband." Sansa replied before seeing the stare she was receiving from Erza, "At least, that's what Septa Mordane says."

"Well, in my opinion," Erza stated, "A woman is her own person and can do what she pleases so long as it is the right thing to do. I want to be a knight. And no one can tell me otherwise."

"See Sansa! See!" Arya declared, "I can be a knight too then and you can't do anything about it!"

Erza saw Lord Stark whisper something to Robb who quickly rose and walked over to the younger children.

"Alright all of you, time for bed."

"Aw!" Arya cried.

"I'm not tired yet." Bran said quietly, his eyes drooping a little.

"Sure you are not." Robb smiled, "Come on, all of you. It is late."

As the Stark children exited, Erza finished eating. She was greatly disappointed that the desert was not strawberry cake. But she didn't show any disappointment. The strange pastry that was served still tasted decadent. After dessert was served, the many servants began to disperse. The feast was now over. Lord and Lady Stark rose from their seats.

"I'll be upstairs in a moment." Ned said to his wife who nodded and left the room. Ned then turned to Erza, "Shall we walk?"

"Of course!" Erza replied, wiping her mouth with a napkin before rising to her feet and walking with Lord Stark back to her own room.

"Where are you from Lady Scarlet?" Ned asked.

"I'm from-" Erza caught herself. What if her suspicions were true? What if she had been transported to another country? Or for that matter, another world? The people of this world may not know of her own country. Or they could be hostile towards Fiore. She needed a convenient lie for now. Just so she could get her bearings before revealing the truth, "The south." she replied quickly.

"Down south?" Ned raised an eyebrow, "That's a large region. Are you from the Riverlands? Perhaps the Stormlands? Or maybe even the Reach?"

"Um…"

"Lady Scarlet." Ned stopped in front of her door, "I can see that you do not want to reveal facts about yourself. You are a horrible liar. Now, it is late tonight. And I have a feeling it has been a rather long day for you. So I will let you rest for tonight. But tomorrow I do expect answers. I make it a point to know who resides in my home."

"O-of course, Lord Stark." Erza replied before bowing, "Thank you for your hospitality."

Lord Stark nodded, "We will discuss more tomorrow morning. Sleep well, Lady Scarlet."

As quickly as he escorted Erza to her room, he left. Disappearing down the torch lit hall. Erza took a deep breath and shook her head.

"He won't believe a word I say." She muttered as she opened the door to her room, entered, then closed it behind her, "I can guarantee that." She noticed a new set of night clothes laying on the bed for her. Erza quickly stripped then dressed in the thick wool clothing. As she settled into the soft bed beneath her, her mind was racing.

 _If that book transported me here? Then did it take everyone else here as well?_ She pursed her lips, _If so, then I must find them. They could be in danger._ Her eyes widened. Natsu was in the room. Natsu was taken by the black orb. That means Natsu was transported somewhere. Block headed Natsu was taken somewhere foreign. And he wasn't exactly known for thinking things through.

 _Oh no._

 **And chapter! That's chapter one folks! Erza is still with the Starks in this story. It just fits way too well to have her end up in Winterfell. Her high sense of justice and loyalty will allow her to fit in well. Hopefully, Lord Stark will believe her when she speaks to him again. Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	3. Wendy I

**Hello everybody! First misdirect of the rewrite! Instead of Natsu up next, we have Wendy. Natsu is coming up, don't worry. That will be a fun chapter to write. But this one hit my brain and I decided to write it out. Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Wendy

The soft feeling of plush blankets and silky sheets enveloped her small body as she shifted in her sleep. A small smile graced her young face. This had to be the most comfortable bed she had ever slept on in her life. She felt her body sink deeper into the near cloudlike surface.

 _So soft._ She thought to herself as she breathed the perfume thick air around her. The smell of violets filling her nose, making her muscles relax even more. _This is nice._

A soft bed, pleasant air, a far cry from-

Wendy caught her breath.

 _A soft bed… pleasant air… no smell of dusty books._ Wendy's eyes shot open.

Above her was an ornate white ceiling. Dark wooden beams crossed the roof above her. Bright sunlight streamed in from a large window that led to a small balcony to her right. Thin curtains drifted lazily as a small breeze drifted into the room, carrying warm summer air with it.

Despite her pleasant surroundings, panic filled Wendy. She shot up from the bed and attempted to jump out only to feel pain lance it's way up from her left leg. She cried loudly and fell back into the bed's warm embrace. Just as her head hit the pillows around her, the door to the room she was in opened then quietly shut. Wendy raised her head, doing her best to ignore the sharp pain in her leg.

Standing at the door was a man. He had a small stature. Smaller than the average man but not ridiculously short. His graying hair was closely trimmed on top of his head while a small goatee and mustache lined his thin lips and sharp chin. His attire clearly showed that he was a wealthy man. And his blue eyes had a shimmer to them that betrayed wit and intelligence.

"I heard you cry out." He said, concern filling his clipped accent, "Are you alright?"

Wendy gulped and winced as she attempted to move her left leg once again, only for more stabbing pain to shoot through her body.

"I would keep it still." The man said as he slowly drifted over to her bedside, "It was a nasty break."

Wendy's breaths stayed quick and shallow as she frantically looked around.

"Carla?" She asked.

The man arched an eyebrow, "Carla? Do you… do you mean the cat?"

Wendy quickly nodded.

A small smirk crossed the man's lips, "Well then, I am glad I picked both of you up then." His hand gestured over to a small cushion on the floor near the window. Lying on it was a small bundle of white fur. The sight of her friend made Wendy's panic fade away. She felt some tears bubbling up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.

"Does it hurt that badly?" The man asked.

"Hm?" Wendy replied, "Oh… um… a little." She glanced at her leg hidden beneath the rich sheets, "How bad?"

The man grimaced, "The bone was protruding from the skin." Wendy's face paled, "But it will heal in due time."

Wendy nodded before bowing her head to the man, "Thank you Mr.-"

The man chuckled, "I have forgotten my manners haven't I?" He held his hand out to her, "Petyr Baelish. Well… Lord Petyr Baelish. But I have a feeling, judging by your speech and general confusion, that you would not know what that title means."

Indeed Wendy did not know. But she tossed that little detail to the side. It was just a title after all. She gratefully took the man's hand and shook it.

"And your name, little one?"

Wendy looked at the man's face. His kind, concerned smile made her feel comfortable. Safe even. She could clearly tell she wasn't in Magnolia. As far as she knew, there were no places like this in little Magnolia. And if there was someone as wealthy as Petyr Baelish in the city, she would have heard of him. Carla would no doubt berate her for speaking so freely with a stranger. But was this man technically a stranger if he helped both her and Carla? In Wendy's mind, that made him a friend.

"Wendy Marvell." She replied.

"Marvell." Petyr repeated, "I am unfamiliar with that surname. Are you perhaps from across the Narrow Sea?"

Wendy's brow arched in confusion, "Narrow sea?"

"Perhaps not." Petyr replied with a slight laugh, "And I doubt you are from Slaver's Bay. A pretty little thing like you would not be here now if you were." He took a seat beside her, "May I ask where you are from?"

"Um… I'm from Fiore." Wendy replied quietly.

"Fiore?" The man replied, "I don't believe I've ever heard of it. Can you tell me about it?"

Wendy glanced hesitantly at Carla before looking back at Petyr, "S-sure. It's um… it's a small kingdom. About three million people."

"Three million!?" Petyr replied, eyebrows raised in surprise, "And that is a small kingdom? I dare say that is a rather large single kingdom in my mind."

"Really?" Wendy replied, "What kingdom am I in now?"

"Well, you are in the land of Westeros. In the Crownlands to be more specific." Petyr took a breath, "And to be even more specific, you are in my establishment in the royal city of King's Landing."

"Establishment?"

"Business. To be more precise." Petyr replied, "A man must make gold to survive in this world after all."

Wendy nodded in understanding, "I get it. Like being a wizard?"

Petyr's eyes narrowed in confusion, "A wizard?"

Wendy nodded innocently, "Yeah a wizard. We take jobs with our guild in order to earn fame and fortune."

"We?"

Wendy pressed her lips together, "Aren't there wizards here in Westeros?"

The man chuckled, "Well, there are some who claim to be wizards. But most are just simple entertainers looking to enthrall the crowds before claiming their gold as his own. If you are referring to the magical sort told in children's stories, then no… there are no wizards in Westeros."

Wendy's eyes widened in surprise. Just as she was about to ask a myriad of questions, the man spoke again.

"You must be rather hungry Wendy. You haven't eaten in quite some time. It has been hours since you came crashing down into my establishment. Some of the girls are still attempting to clean up the rubble." He snapped his fingers towards the door. In an instant, two woman wearing rather revealing dresses trotted in, one carrying a tray of food, the other a small pitcher of water and a glass, "I apologize ahead of time." He told Wendy as the tray was placed over her small form, "I don't really have proper servants here. So I had some of my girls prepare you a meal."

"Your girls?" Wendy questioned as she looked at the food, her mouth beginning to water as the sweet aroma of cakes and meat filled her nose.

"Yes, that is the sort of establishment this is after all."

Wendy froze as she was about to take a bite.

"Eh?"

The door burst open again. This time, a man that was easily the same height as Master Makarov burst into the room. He stumbled to and fro momentarily, his dirty blonde hair messily splayed in many directions while his stunted hands gripped a cup filled with a dark red liquid. It took the small man a few moments to regain his footing before he glanced over at Petyr and Wendy.

"Oh." He slurred, "I decided to follow a couple gorgeous girls around and now it seems I have stumbled into the wrong room of the whorehouse."

Wendy's face turned beat red.

"It seems you may have, Lord Tyrion." Petyr replied casually.

The short man flashed the two women that delivered Wendy's food a bright, mischievous smile.

"Oh yes, you two will do perfectly." The two women giggled as the sauntered over to the dwarf, "I hope you enjoy the company of half men. But I assure you, the gods made sure that only my height was cut in half."

Both women giggled loudly as he stood between them. The dwarf then looked over at Petyr and Wendy once again.

"Um… Lord Baelish?"

"Yes, Lord Tyrion?"

"Is there a certain fetish you wish to inform me of?" He asked, nodding to Wendy.

"EEEP!" Wendy squealed, quickly burying her face in her hands.

"Absolutely not, Lannister!" Petyr remarked sharply, "She is simply a little girl who broke her leg in the back alley. I noticed and decided to help."  
The dwarf seemed taken aback by Petyr's explanation, "How touching." One of the woman near him lowered herself to his height before whispering something in his ear. A wide, excited smile crossed Tyrion's face, "And speaking of touching, I must be going."

"Enjoy yourself." Petyr called.

"I always do!"

The door quickly shut behind him. It was at that moment, that Wendy finally noticed the sounds of lewd moaning coming from the floor beneath her. Her face turned even redder as she slowly reappeared from the sheets.

"Ah, youthful innocence." Petyr commented, "I apologize for the Imp. I'm sure he didn't mean to shatter it."

"Imp?" Wendy asked, doing her best to tune out the indecent cries in the building around her.

"Lord Tyrion Lannister. Though everyone calls him the Imp. I'm sure you can guess why." Petyr replied. He then glance outside and quickly got to his feet, "Oh dear, it's getting a little late. I still have some business at the palace to handle." He moved towards the door, "We will talk more later, Wendy. For now rest. Your body needs it."

Wendy nodded and Petyr disappeared from her sight.

Just as Lord Baelish began to step away from Wendy's room, he paused.

"Just waiting outside are we, Tyrion?"

Leaning against the door frame was the blonde haired imp. His strangely colored eyes no longer seemed to be swimming in alcohol and his gait was just as sharp as any sober man's.

"Of course, Littlefinger." He sipped from the cup in his hands, "Haven't your girl's told you that I am a curious man."

"Oh they have called you curious. That is a certainty." Petyr replied before striding away from the door with Tyrion in tow.

"I'd hope they would." Tyrion replied with a smirk, "It means I am memorable."

"Ha!" Littlefinger guffawed, "Memorable is certainly one of your qualities. Though I am not sure if it is as good a one as you seem to think."

"Well…" Tyrion replied, "I know for certain that charitable is not one of your qualities." Littlefinger paused as he neared a staircase, "I just have one question for you, Lord Baelish."

"And that question I presume is, why?"

Tyrion nodded and a wicked smirk crossed Littlefinger's face.

"Little surprises now can turn into great gifts further down the line, Tyrion."

"Sagely advice from the Master of Coin." Tyrion nodded, "Well, better that than the thought of you fucking her." Tyrion patted Littlefinger on the back before descending the staircase, "Now if you'll excuse me, if I don't proceed to satisfy my pleasures then your whores will leave today penniless."

"And I certainly do not want that. Looks bad for business."

Tyrion raised his glass of wine, "Have a lovely evening, Littlefinger."

"And you as well, Imp."

….

Wendy shifted nervously beside Petyr as the carriage bumbled along the bumpy cobblestone road. Her hands quickly went down to the dress she was wearing, a pretty blue and white outfit that matched Wendy's peculiar hair color almost perfectly. Lord Baelish had arrived in the morning to give it to her as well as to inform her that she will be accompanying him to the royal palace for the day. Her small hands anxiously smoothed out several creases in the fabric.

"Relax, Wendy." Petyr said with a small smile, "You have nothing to worry about."

"Um… but you are taking me to the palace." Wendy replied, her voice quiet.

"I am." Petyr nodded, "Only because I prefer to keep an eye on you."

Wendy glanced over at the small man, "Keep an eye on me?"

"Would you rather be left alone at the whorehouse?" Petyr asked.

Wendy gulped and shook her head.

"I thought so. This way, you get to have a little fresh air. And I can still accomplish my many duties." He sighed, "So many duties…"

"What exactly do you do, Mr. Petyr?" Wendy asked, the man chuckling at the title Wendy instinctively used.

"It's Lord Baelish in public, little one." Petyr replied with a gentle grin, "As for what I do. Other than conduct my own private businesses, I serve as the master of coin under King Robert."

Wendy nodded, "So you are in charge of the money?"

Petyr nodded.

"Wow…" Wendy rested back against the carriage wall, "You are really important then!"

Another genial laugh left Petyr's lips, "Indeed I am. Although, King Robert doesn't like to say so."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow, "How come?"

Petyr leaned closer as the carriage hit another hard bump in the road.

"Well you see, Wendy. King Robert is… an interesting king." He explained, choosing his words very carefully, "Is he a good man? Depends on what you consider to be the qualities a good man. King Robert is at least honest. But loud. Oh so very loud. He tends to not think before speaking. Which can result in him having me throw endless amounts of coin at trivial endeavors."

"Such as?"

"Great hunts." Petyr replied, "Or tourneys. Attractions that the crown can't afford currently." He noticed the concerned look on Wendy's face, "King Robert is a man who loves to be entertained." The carriage slowly began to crawl to a stop. The sounds of hooves clopping against the cobblestone died away, "And when he gets bored…. Well…" Petyr shrugged, "It's up to us advisers to clean up the mess."

The carriage door opened. Standing on the other side were two guards wearing steel armor and gold cloaks. Petyr nodded to both of them before stepping out of the carriage. He then quickly extended a hand to Wendy and assisted her out as well. The little girl hissed in pain as he heavily wrapped leg touched the ground.

"Easy now." Petyr said quietly before reaching into the carriage and retrieving a small crutch that he had made for her, "Use this."

Wendy smiled, "Thank you, Lord Baelish."

He nodded, "Very good." He placed a hand behind her back, "Now follow me."

The pair slowly made their way up to the building that towered over every other in the city of King's Landing.

The Red Keep, the seat of every ruling monarch in Westeros for hundreds of years. Ever since the great Aegon Targaryen had conquered the land, a king had ruled from the throne he had built in the nearly impregnable fortress. Although designed to handle a siege, it did not have a military appearance. The courtyards of the Red Keep were covered in beautiful stone walkways and gardens filled with flowers that Wendy couldn't tear her eyes away from. Birds chirped happily in the small trees that lined the red walls while guards wearing shining steel armor and golden cloaks patrolled the grounds.

Up ahead of Wendy were massive doors that slowly groaned inward to allow her and Petyr in. The interior of the Red Keep was just as remarkable as the outdoors. Lavish carpets blanketed the stone floors and created a soft walkway for those wishing to kneel before the Iron Throne. Tapestries and torches hung from the walls. The small entry way then opened up into a cavernous main hall.

Wendy felt Petyr suddenly jerk to a stop.

"Well this is most surprising." She heard him mutter before a powerful, booming voice called out to him.

"Gods damn it Littlefinger! Where the fuck have you been!?"

Wendy jumped at the booming voice ringing in her sensitive ears. Her eyes then drifted up the stone steps at the end of the main hall to a throne that mesmerized her. It really was an iron throne. Made out of hundreds and hundreds of swords welded together to form the most uncomfortable looking seat Wendy had ever seen. And yet, it still looked strangely beautiful.

However, the man sitting atop the Iron Throne was anything but beautiful. Long, greasy black hair ran down the back of his thick neck from the base of a golden crown. His plump face was covered in a thick, black beard that was no doubt grown to disguise the large jowls that the man had. His meaty hands clenched the armrests of the Iron Throne tightly while his clothes were nearly bursting at the seams due to his impressive girth.

"I apologize, your grace." Lord Baelish quickly bowed, "I decided to take a carriage today."

Wendy's eyes bugged out of her head. This revolting man was the king!? She could hardly believe it.

"A carriage!?" King Robert cried, "Are you a woman? A man rides a horse or moves with his feet!"

 _I doubt you could still ride a horse._ Wendy thought as she watched the man berate her new friend.

"Well, I am in the company of someone who needed a carriage your grace." Lord Baelish motioned for Wendy to step up beside him. Which she quickly did, "May I present, Miss Wendy Marvell."

King Robert's expression noticeably softened. The red tinging his cheeks faded away as he gazed on Wendy.

"Oh." The King began, "I apologize little one. I had no idea that Littlefinger would be bringing company with him." His eyes wandered over to the Master of Coin before falling to Wendy's injured leg, "And I can see why Littlefinger took a carriage today." He nodded to a man wearing bright armor and a white cloak. The man quickly strode up to Wendy and offered her his hand, which she hesitantly took. She was then gently led over to a seat to the left of the King. A seat she felt herself sink into as it's velvety cushions embraced her small form.

"That ought to be more comfortable than that crutch eh?" King Robert smiled. A grin that surprised Wendy. It was almost a noble smile. Bright and filled with charm. As if it was revealing a second personality long buried by the outward appearance the King projected.

The large man shifted in his throne and nodded to Petyr.

"Get in your seat already. I want to get this nonsense over with before you lot go into the small council chambers."

"Before I do, your grace." Petyr replied, "Might I ask, where is Lord Arryn?"

Wendy saw the King's face drop.

"Lord Arryn is feeling ill today. And because my Hand is feeling ill, I actually have to hold court." King Robert replied quietly, "Now get in your damn seat!"

Petyr quickly bowed and strolled over to a small seat near a man with a bald head and wearing thick robes. As soon as Petyr sat down, Wendy noticed him engaging in whispers with the bald man. Both greeting and smiling at each other.

 _That must be one of his friends!_ Wendy thought.

"Now that everyone is finally here." King Robert sighed, "Let's get this ridiculousness handled. Ser Barristan! Bring in the common folk. Let's hear their shitty grievances today." He finished before grasping a large glass of wine.

….

Wendy sat quietly in the now empty Great Hall. The Iron Throne was empty. King Robert had ended the court early hours ago. According to a man Wendy had recently just met, King Robert's little brother Renly Baratheon, the King was tired and wished to check on the condition of his chief adviser, the hand to the king, Lord Jon Arryn. Any other matters would be referred to the small council, which Wendy deduced, was a group of the King's advisers who met privately to discuss the much larger matters regarding the Kingdom. And this council was a group that her new friend Petyr was a member of.

She couldn't go with him into the meeting. Only the Lords of the small council and the King could actually be in attendance. So she remained in her chair in the Great Hall. Her mind constantly wandering to her peculiar situation.

She was not in Fiore. That was a certainty. Wendy even doubted if she was even on the same continent as Fiore. Nothing about this land looked remotely familiar to her. Even the accents of the people were a tad strange to her.

 _I'll need to see a map or something in order to figure out where I am._ She thought, _Then maybe I can get home!_

She had no idea how she got here. That was the missing variable that was confusing her. Wendy could remember arriving at Levy's house and watching Natsu and Gray fight over a strange book. Then she blacked out.

 _Are the others aware of where I'm at?_ She gulped, _Are they looking for me?_

A door along the far wall of the Great Hall creaked open. Sharp footsteps loudly clapped against the stone floors. Eventually, a beautiful woman with long blonde hair entered. Her long red dress flowing elegantly behind her as she strode regally through the great hall.

It appeared that she was expecting to be alone. Because when she saw Wendy, the woman jumped for a moment.

"Who are you!?" She instantly asked. Her voice sharp and cold.

"Uh um-"

"Why are you here?" The woman's voice went from slightly scared to intimidating as she stomped towards Wendy.

"I-I-"

"Servants are not allowed to sit near the Iron Throne!" The woman snapped as she drew closer to Wendy.

"But she is no servant, your grace."

Wendy's racing heart began to slow as the familiar voice of Petyr calmly echoed through her ears. The woman stopped storming towards Wendy and instantly drew back in surprise.

"She isn't?"

"No. She is a guest of mine. A cousin from the Fingers." Petyr replied casually as he drew up beside Wendy. Meanwhile, the other members of the small council quietly filtered out of the Great Hall. The only one choosing to remain behind being the bald man Wendy saw Petyr whispering to earlier.

 _Cousin!? From what!?_

The woman smirked, "I had no idea you still had familial connections to your home, Lord Baelish."

"On occasion I receive correspondence from them, my queen." Petyr replied.

Wendy sucked in a breath. This woman was the queen! She tilted her head in confusion. How in the world did King Robert manage to get this woman to fall in love with him?

The queen nodded, "Well, please keep a closer eye on her. She gave me quite the fright."

"I will."

"And if you cannot. Then I can perhaps assist by assigning one of the Kingsguard to look after her?"

Petyr smiled, "That is a very kind offer, but no thank you. I can manage."

"Very well. The offer will remain though." The Queen folded her hands and nodded to him and the bald man, "I have a feeling you two have much to discuss still." She began to stride away.

"Have a lovely evening, your grace." The bald man called after her. But he got no response.

Wendy heard a long, irritated sigh escape Petyrs lungs.

"Ah…. Queen Cersei." He pursed his lips, "As beautiful as she is cunning. Although, she tends to let her temper get the better of her."

"Only on occasion." The bald man noted before standing in front of Wendy, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Marvell. Lord Baelish spoke of you briefly in the small council meeting but I desired to meet you personally." He held out his hand to, "My name is Lord Varys."

Wendy smiled and shook his hand, "It's nice to meet a friend of Lord Baelish's."

"A friend yes." Lord Varys nodded before glancing over at Petyr, "May I ask, where in the Fingers you are from?"

"A small village along the coast, near Pebble." Petyr answered for her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "As you very well know, Lord Varys. The Fingers are not very wealthy. Most villages don't even have names."

Varys nodded, "Quite. However, I assumed that a cousin of the wealthy Lord Baelish would at least have some sort of history in the Fingers that she can share herself?"

"She is quite tired." Petyr replied quickly, "Perhaps she can discuss it with you some other time?"

Varys smirked, "Very well then. I do have to be on my way as well. My little birds bring me news." And just like that, he left. Shuffling away as quiet as a mouse.

Wendy glanced at Petyr confused.

"I'm a cousin?"

"For now, yes." Petyr replied, "And for the record, Lord Varys is the furthest thing from a friend." Wendy's eyes widened, "He is the Master of Whispers. The man in charge of the kingdom's spies as well as gathering many… secrets. Both for his own personal gain and for the King's gain. Do not speak to him. And whatever you do, do not trust him. He is known as the Spider for a reason."

Wendy nodded as she helped to her feet by Petyr.

"Is that why you introduced me as a cousin."

Petyr nodded, "The less he knows about you the better. While I may be able to accept your fantastical origins, the others on the small council may not. And that could put not only you in danger, but my reputation in danger as well. And we both cannot afford that."

"I guess then the sooner I can get home the better."

Petyr paused, "We must wait on that until I can figure out where exactly your home is? And we must wait for your leg to heal so you can actually travel. Until then, stay close to me. Kings Landing may look like a bright city on the outside. But in reality, it is a nest of vipers." Wendy's eyes widened in fear, "And no one is more poisonous than Lord Varys…. Or even, Queen Cersei."

Wendy nodded in understanding before yawning.

"I guess I am tired then." She stretched her arms over her head.

Petyr chuckled, "Very good." He whispered to her before they both exited the Red Keep.

 **Well… this could end badly. Wendy is a very naive character in Fairy Tail. Very shy but trusting. I think it's completely in her character to befriend a person that helps her when she needs help. And I'm sure that she interpreted Littlefinger's actions as him genuinely wanting to help her. But we all know, Littlefinger is far from a generous man, as Tyrion pointed out. What his motivations are for this, we will see. But I have a feeling he knows more about Wendy than he has revealed to her. Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	4. Natsu I

**Hello everyone! I've got another chapter all set to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Natsu

Warm winds from the sea whipped through the lavish palace, sweeping the silk curtains that lined the balcony doors to the side. It was a picturesque day in the free city of Pentos. The sun sat high overhead, bringing about another warm summer day. Meanwhile, the winds brought the smell of salt and seawater drifting into the palace of the richest man in the city. That man was Illyrio Mopatis.

He was an older man, on the wrong side of forty. Lines from worry and wrinkles from years of clawing his way to the top of the ladder had left their mark on his face. His once vibrant beard and hair were now a muted brown color. His soft hand ran through his beard before disdainfully plucking a gray hair that dared show its face to the world.

He liked to do this. Standing on the balcony of his manse overlooking the narrow sea. It provided him a peace that very few men knew of. Just as he was beginning to settle into his relaxed state, he heard the door to his private chambers open and quietly shut. The clank of armor caused him to let out a long sigh.

" _Kessa?"_

Behind him was an athletic warrior, clad in dark, lightweight armor. A dome shaped helmet with a triangular face mask adorned his dark head, hiding the warrior's identity. A long spear was gripped firmly in his left hand while his right carried a shield as dark as his armor.

The warrior approached Illyrio and quickly whispered in his ear. The wealthy man's eyes narrowed and he nodded. The warrior strode out as quickly as he entered, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Illyrio cast one last glance at the Narrow Sea before turning on his heel and entering his chambers once again. With his hands clasped behind him back, he waited at the center of the room. Within moments, the door opened once again.

Three warriors in dark armor and domed helmets marched in. One strode up beside Illyrio, planting his spear firmly into the tiled floors while standing at attention. Illyrio paid the warrior no mind. His focus was on the other two warriors and the two strange people they were dragging into his chambers.

The warrior on the right dragged what appeared to be a teenage girl with vibrant blonde hair. Nothing out of the ordinary for the city of Pentos. She was very beautiful to look at. But her attire was wrong. Foreign, even by the Free Cities' diverse standards of fashion. Her chest was covered by a white and blue blouse that revealed plenty of cleavage. The rest of her body was covered by a small black skirt that barely reached her mid thigh. Illyrio arched an eyebrow at the girl's appearance. How she ended up here and not in the hands of someone with far more sinister thoughts boggled his mind.

But if the girl was strange to look upon, her companion was even more curious. In the arms of the warrior on the right was a teenage boy with impossibly pink hair spiking up messily from his head. His narrow eyes were closed and the boy seemed to sleeping peacefully, judging by the small smile on his lips. Unlike the girl however, the boy seemed to be dressed to fit into the city. A black and gold waistcoat rested over his shoulders, yet was unbuttoned, revealing a muscled but thin body. Billowy white pants covered his legs and waist while simple sandals covered his feet.

Illyrio turned to look at the warrior to his right.

"You fill my time with this?" He snapped quietly. His biting tone making the warrior flinch ever so slightly, "Street urchins are not my concern."

" _Issi daor sepār riñar"_ The warrior replied, his quiet voice muffled by the faceplate on his helmet. " _Pōnta māstan isse se lentor ruaratan isse perzys."_

Illyrio wrinkled his brow, "They appeared in my palace, bathed in fire?"

The warrior nodded.

"When?"

"An hour ago." The Warrior replied, struggling a little with the common tongue.

Illyrio nodded. "While I slept?"

The warrior nodded.

"And you did not seek to wake me when this phenomenon occurred?"

"Spotted Cat busy helping Targaryen prince."

Illyrio closed his eyes and let out a weary sigh. That explained why his guards delayed waking him. Viserys Targaryen was awake. And Illyrio's entire household was aware of how he disliked dealing with the Beggar King. The guard had a choice. Risk his master's wrath by waking him and having him encounter the Targaryen brat early in the morning. Or wait until his master was in a rather good mood before bringing forth these two teenagers. Frankly, Illyrio couldn't blame his guards for choosing the latter. A day of Illyrio being unhappy was not something they all wanted.

Just as he was about to give the guard's orders, the boy with pink hair stirred, his narrow eyes slowly opening.

"Ugh…" The boy groaned, wincing as the sunlight hit his dark eyes, "My head." He wearily glanced around the room, head lolling from side to side, "Where…. Huh?" He blinked and craned his head to look at the guard gripping him the neck of his waistcoat, "Who are you?"

"They are Unsullied." Illyrio instantly answered, drawing the mysterious boy's attention, "And they do not speak unless allowed to by their master."

The boy cocked an eyebrow, "That's weird?" His eyes darted from Illyrio's head to his feet and back up again. Then the boy pointed at him abruptly, causing the guard to his side to tense up, "You're a guy. But you are wearing a dress!"

"It is not a dress boy." Illyrio replied with an even tone, "This is a robe."

"A what?"

Illyrio stared dumbfounded at the child. Was the boy this idiotic? Or was he simply a naive little fool? Perhaps both?

"My attire matters not. What matters is how you appeared in my home. My guards say you appeared with the girl while wrapped in fire."

The boy blinked and glanced over at the blonde.

"Me and Lucy appeared here in a fireball?" he repeated, uncertain if what he was hearing was true. Then his lips parted into a toothy grin, "THAT'S AWESOME! Can you tell me what it looked like!?"

Illyrio sighed. This conversation was going nowhere fast. And he preferred to not have his time wasted. He had much more important things to do today. A good friend of his across the Narrow Sea was awaiting a raven that he had yet to send.

"Again, that does not matter." Illyrio stated, "I want to know more about you and your friend." He nodded to the still unconscious blonde, "Who are you?"

"Me?" The boy blinked, "Well, I'm Natsu Dragneel! Resident badass of the wizard guild Fairy Tail!"

The two guards carrying him and the girl glanced at each other puzzled while Illyrio attempted to make sense of the boy's rambling.

"Natsu Dragneel…" Illyrio parroted slowly, "Resident of the wizard guild Fairy Tail?"

"You got it buddy." Natsu smiled.

For the first time all morning, Illyrio laughed. A wizard guild? Preposterous. While there were guilds in the free cities. A guild of wizards was nothing more than a product of imagination. Made up tales of children and storytellers.

"This is a waste of my time." Illyrio waved his hand, "Send both of them to the city watch. Let them deal with this."

"Wha!" Natsu exclaimed as the guard holding him began to drag him towards the door while the guard holding Lucy opened the door, "NOW HOLD ON A MOMENT!" The boy bellowed loudly, "Get your hands off of me!"

The Unsullied paid the boy no mind. They merely carried out their master's orders. Illyrio watched with disinterest as the boy was dragged through the door, only for his strong arms to grip the door frame.

"I ain't going anywhere yet!" Natsu barked.

"You will be going to the city watch where they will most likely sell you the highest bidder considering that you have managed to waste my time." Illyrio snapped, "I am a very powerful man, Natsu Dragneel. My time is precious to me."

"Sell me!?" By this time, the guard holding the blonde was already moving down the hall, "Buddy if you've got a problem with me or Fairy Tail then fight me like a man!"

Illyrio frowned. The boy was still going on about this 'Fairy Tail'. He wasn't only naive or a fool, he was delusional as well. Perhaps it would be a mercy to order his Unsullied to kill the boy. No one would buy a brat like this. In fact, Illyrio was about to give the order when he noticed something peculiar. The air in the room was starting to heat up. He wiped his brow as sweat began to bead along his hairline.

 _Why has it gotten so hot so suddenly?_

 __Illyrio's eyes widened. The boy's hands were gripping his wooden door frame. And the carefully carved and varnished wood around his fingertips were starting to char. Small flames began to lick the door. Then the boy's hand became enveloped in bright orange fire.

" **Fire Dragon's Iron Fist!"**

 ****With one mighty blow, the pink haired boy's fist sent the Unsullied guard crashing into the far wall, leaving a crater in the wooden framing of the manse. While Illyrio stared wide eyed at Natsu, his remaining guards leveled their spears at Natsu. Meanwhile, the boy swayed to and fro for a moment.

"Why am I so tired all of a sudden?"

As he swayed to and fro, seemingly consumed by sudden exhaustion, Illyrio heard rapid footsteps marching down the hall towards his chambers. The clip clap of luxurious boots snapped the magister of Pentos out of his shocked haze and caused a long sigh to leave his lips. He knew exactly who was coming.

A man with long silver blond hair burst into the room. Lilac colored eyes gazed furiously at Illyrio while his gaunt jaw hardened. Behind him, a woman slowly followed. Her hair matching the young man in front of her. But while the man stormed in with a wild anger, the woman meekly followed. Her head bowed, eyes staring at her feet while she clasped her hands in front of her blue dress.

"I was expecting to meet with you Magister and yet you refuse to come and see me!?" The young man declared, his voice shaking with fury. The woman flinched a little as the man shouted.

"I apologize, Viserys."

"King Viserys." The young man quickly corrected.

"Of course." Illyrio replied, "As I was about to say, I was dealing with a rather interesting development that I didn't want to concern you with."

Viserys glanced at the pink haired boy.

"What? The blonde we passed and this pink haired freak!?" Viserys scoffed, "They are more important than meeting with me to discuss some very important events coming upon us."

"I am well aware of how important your meeting with Khal Drogo is, Viserys. Remember I'm the one who brokered such a meeting." Illyrio replied calmly while Viserys face contorted in anger, "However, when something curious occurs in my own house, I tend to investigate it." Illyrio nodded to Natsu, "This boy and the blonde girl apparently appeared in a shroud of fire." Viserys drew back, surprised by what he was hearing, "Then the boy claimed to be a wizard. I believed what he said to be folly until he assaulted one of my guards with a flaming fist."

It was then that both Viserys and the woman behind him noticed the Unsullied guard lying in a smoking heap next to cratered wall.

"But as I said before, my King." Illyrio continued, "This is not a matter I wished to concern you with. It is nothing more than a… distraction."

"Distraction?" Viserys cocked an eyebrow, all anger fading away as he glanced at Natsu with intrigue, "I must say. This may be the furthest thing from a distraction. After what you just said Magister, it appears that I am fascinated as well."

He strode up to Natsu and glared down at the weary boy.

"What is your name?"

Natsu looked up at Viserys, one eye closed, the other drooping as he struggled to remain awake.

"Natsu… Dragneel."

"And you claim to be a wizard?"

He nodded.

"You wield the power of fire?"

"I wield the power of a fire dragon!" Natsu corrected vehemently.

The woman clearly tensed as she remained in the doorway. Meanwhile, Viserys narrowed his eyes at the Natsu.

"The power of a fire dragon?"

Natsu weakly nodded.

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Viserys laughed. A loud, cold, cackling sound that bit at the ears of everyone in the room. He wiped his mouth and took several steps back, still chuckling as he did so.

"So, you aren't just a human? But a…" He laughed again, "A dragon as well?"

"Well… not really a dragon." Natsu replied, "More of a dragon slayer."

Viserys mirth disappeared.

"Dragon slayer?" He repeated, voice trembling. Whether it was from fear or anger, the pink haired boy nor Illyrio could tell.

"Uh… yeah." Natsu replied casually.

Viserys dropped to Natsu's eye level, "You are saying that you slay dragons. Yet no dragon has existed in decades." His thin hand lashed out and snagged Natsu by the jaw, clenching him tightly, "So… what kind of dragons to you slay? Is it the actual being? Or perhaps… my family?"

Natsu's eyes widened, "You guys are dragons!"

"I do not think you should be taking this boy seriously, Viserys."

"King…"

Illyrio closed his eyes in frustration, "King Viserys. This Natsu Dragneel is obviously a naive fool. Does he have special… abilities. It appears so. But for all we know, these powers were gifted to him and he knows not what they are for. So he came up with some fantastical purpose for them." Illyrio drew close to Viserys, "It is possible he comes from Asshai." Viserys' face paled a little, "The priestess there are well known for the magics. Especially their fire magics."

"If he is from Asshai then I do not want him near me. In fact, I don't even want him living near me." Viserys rose up, "I want him killed." Natsu's eyes widened, "And the girl too. If for no other reason than he claims to hunt dragons. The actual creature doesn't exist anymore. The only dragons left are myself and my sister. We have the blood of dragons in us. Perhaps he is some deluded assassin sent here by the Usurper." He nodded, "Yes that is what it is. Kill him! Kill him now!"

Natsu began to struggle against the arms of one of the Unsullied guards.

"Hey! Let me go! I've never killed anyone in my life! STOP IT!"

The Unsullied drew a knife and held the blade to Natsu's throat. Then paused. Natsu gulped as he felt the cold steel against his flesh. He was trying with all his might to summon his fire once again. But for some reason, it refused to appear. He could only manage to muster a little heat from his body. And every time he did, he felt another wave of exhaustion hit him. His onyx eyes glared at Viserys.

"What are you waiting for?" Viserys asked the Unsullied, "Slit his throat!"

"They are awaiting my command." Illyrio replied, "They are my men after all."

"And I am their king! They should be obeying my commands! Kill him!"

"Viserys." The woman with silver hair finally piped up, surprising Viserys with her sudden entrance into the situation. Her lithe form swept up to him and she quietly whispered something in his ear. For a moment, Viserys looked at her dumbfounded. Then angry. Then he smiled and laughed.

"For once…. my sister's kind heart may be onto something." He laughed and nodded at the Unsullied.

The guard looked at Illyrio who motioned for the warrior to sheath his knife. Natsu gasped in relief as he felt the steel slide away from his throat.

"What are you waiting for, Dany?" Viserys snapped at his sister, "You're the one who wants him to live so badly. I have much more important things to deal with."

The girl hesitated at first, then gulped and cautiously approached Natsu. The Unsullied guard stepped away as she reached him. She held out a small, slender hand to the boy.

"Come with me." She said quietly.

Natsu gulped and glanced over at Viserys, who was cast a quick glance over at him every so often while he whispered to Illyrio. He then gently grasped the girl's hand. She struggled to help him to his feet. But with the assistance of the Unsullied guard, they were able to lift up the weary Natsu Dragneel.

"Bring the other girl with." Dany ordered to the other guard holding Lucy.

She exited the room first, the two Unsullied holding Natsu and Lucy followed her. When they were a fair distance from Illyrio's personal chambers, Dany glanced back at Natsu.

"I apologize for my brother. He is a bit… paranoid."

"A bit?" Natsu replied, "I'd a say he's a bit more than a bit paranoid?"

"Well…" Dany sighed. The boy wasn't wrong. Her brother Viserys was a very paranoid man. Constantly warning her of the threats that were posed to them. They were Targaryens. The last Targaryens. Their father had at one time been King of Westeros. Then the Usurper rebelled. Her father, her eldest brother, their entire family were butchered. Only herself and Viserys escaped. And they had been on the run ever since. Living off of the kindness of strangers and secret loyalist. "Our lifestyle has made him this way. I like to believe that he isn't like that… deep down."

Natsu nodded as the group turned to enter a new set of chambers. Inside was lightly furnished. A small bed rested in the far right corner near a set of doors that led out to another balcony. This one overlooking the city around the palace. Soft carpets blanketed the floors. In the corner, opposite of the bed, sat a small basin filled with cold water. The Unsullied guards set Natsu and Lucy down on the floor before bowing to Dany. Then they left, closing the door behind them.

"There." Dany stated, "Welcome to my… um… room."

Natsu glanced around, "It's nice!" He then looked at the blonde, "Not as cozy as Lucy's place though."

Dany smiled, "It is nice. I like it." She folded her hands in front of her as she sat down on the edge of her bed, her eyes downcast yet again. Then, with a sigh, she glance up at Natsu, "Is it true?"

"What?"

"That you are a wizard? A dragon slayer? Is that not something you were making up?"

Natsu raised an eyebrow as he sat on the floor, "Why would I make that up?"

"So it is true?"

Natsu nodded.

Dany looked at him with now excited eyes, "Can you… can you show me?"

Natsu winced and scratched the back of his head, "I'd love to. But um… my magic isn't working right for some reason." He sniffed, "Maybe I ate something bad back home." He blinked, "Back home." He mumbled before sucking in a quick breath, "Wait a moment! I ain't home!" His head turned rapidly as he looked around, "Just where exactly am I!?" Beside him, the blonde mumbled then rolled over in her sleep.

Dany frowned, "You don't know where you are?"

Natsu shook his head, "No idea!"

"So you've never been to Pentos before?"

Natsu narrowed his eyes, "Pentos… Pentos." He mumbled, attempting to recall a place with that name, "Nah. Nope! Never been to a place called Pentos before." He tilted his head to the side, "Now that I think about it, I've never even heard of a place called Pentos before."

Dany's eyes widened, "You've never heard of Pentos!?"

"Should I have?"

"Of course! It's one of the great Free Cities of Essos." Natsu stared at her, completely puzzled. Dany noticed his confusion, "Where exactly are you from, Natsu?"

"Magnolia." Natsu replied.

"Magnolia…" Dany pursed her lips, "I've never heard of Magnolia before."

"And I've never heard of Pentos before." Natsu grinned, "Guess we both have some learning to do."

Dany laughed lightly, "Perhaps we do. Well… I have to go and…" She gulped, "Get ready for something. Something very important for both myself and my brother. I will be gone for a couple hours. Please remain here. I do not want to imagine what could happen if you managed to anger Viserys."

"What? Would I unleash a dragon or something?" Dany paled at Natsu's reply, "He did say you and him had dragon blood in you. Or something like that. To be honest it doesn't make much sense to me."

Dany shook her head, "Just please. Wait for me here. You are welcome to everything in this room. A servant may bring in some food soon."

"Ok." Natsu replied with a grin. Just as Dany was about to leave, Natsu called to her, "Hey! I didn't catch your name!"

She glanced back at him, "Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen."

Natsu narrowed his eyes, "Dinosaur? Dennis? Ummm…" He laughed sheepishly at his mispronunciations, "Can I just call you Dany?"

Dany laughed loudly. The laugh actually surprised her. She hadn't laughed like that in some time.

"Yes…" She nodded, "Yes you can call me Dany." Her laughter slowly faded away and the same melancholy overtook her once again, "I have to get going."

"Ok. See you later, Dany."

"You as well, Natsu."

….

"Are you sure this is a wise decision, your grace." Illyrio asked as Viserys lounged in a chair on the balcony overlooking the seat.

"It's my decision. Whether it is wise or not is none of your concern." He replied before taking a goblet and sipping the wine from it.

Illyrio ceased his pacing and turned to look at the far younger man, "That boy. Natsu Dragneel. He is a complete unknown in the grand scheme of things. I understand if you're sister wished to spare him. She is a gentle soul after all. But your plan seems rather… well… poorly planned out."

"My plan…" Viserys began as he swirled the wine in his glass, "Will do much to gain followers to my cause. Which I do need. Think about it Illyrio. Natsu Dragneel claims to be a Dragon Slayer. And he can wield fire! Fire! An actual wizard on my side. Dany pointed that out to me. Can you imagine the look on the Usurper's face when I arrive in Westeros with both a Dothraki army and a man who commands fire at my back."

"I can imagine what any possible supporters may say." Illyrio responded, "That you have gone mad and started believing in children's tales of magic and sorcery."

Viserys grimaced, "I don't need them."

"You just said you did. If you are going to reclaim the Iron Throne from Robert Baratheon then you need more allies than myself and a few horse lords. You need actual allies in Westeros."

"But you said so yourself!" Viserys jumped to his feet, "The people of Westeros bless my name! They cry out for their true king and curse the name of King Robert Baratheon." Illyrio began to roll his eyes, "They weave my banners in secret and-"

"And anxiously await your glorious return. Yes I know. And all of that is true." Illyrio replied, "But wars are not won with sentiments and blessings, Viserys. They are won by playing the game and winning said game. And so far, you have failed to even enter the game."

Viserys's twisted into a snarl, "I will enter the game! I will enter with a horde of forty thousand Dothraki screamers as I slaughter the Usurper's armies. Him and that wolf lord that he so loves! They will crumble under the might of the Dragon!"

Illyrio nodded. Viserys clearly was not going to be swayed. Not yet at least. The boy was ambitious, for certain. But when it came to the subtleties of the world, he was an idiot. Pure and simple.

"Still… I want to send for someone to… examine both Natsu Dragneel and his blonde companion."

Viserys waved dismissively, "Do what you want. I care not." he slumped back in his chair and brought his wine to his lips, "When does Khal Drogo arrive?"

"Tomorrow morning… hopefully."

"Hopefully?"

"Dothraki are not exactly known for their punctuality." Illyrio explained.

"I am his king! He will arrive on time or-"

"May I remind you, your grace, that you are not his king. Not until he actually agrees to marry Daenerys." Viserys pursed his lips and clenched his jaw. Illyrio was correct, and he knew it.

"Do you think he will like her?" Viserys asked, anxiety filling his voice as he took another sip of wine.

Illyrio took a deep breath, "If he doesn't, then we will certainly know it."

 **And chapter! Natsu is with Dany once again! I also will not have Lucy be captured by Viserys like in the original version of this story. I have something better in mind for her. Anyways, finally got the Natsu chapter to you guys! I apologize for the long wait. I work a labor job during the week and usually put in fifty to sixty hours a week, so time for writing is hard to come by. But school is coming up soon for me (Hopefully. Fingers crossed!). So with school I should actually get more time to write (Ironic right? The place that is supposed to keep me super busy will actually have me less busy, or at least less exhausted every day). Anyways, let me know what you guys think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	5. Levy I

**Another chapter ready to go for you guys! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Levy

The first thing she felt was the baking heat of the sun torching the exposed skin on her arms and legs. Then came the spray of water kissing that same skin as she felt her body bobbing up and down. A long groan left her lips before she allowed her brown eyes to open. Above her was a crystal clear sky. Not a cloud in sight. Only the sun beaming down on her, nearly blinding her. Levy quickly raised a hand to shield her eyes.

 _So bright._ She thought.

First she tried to move her arms. They screamed back at her. Each joint, tendon, and ligament resisting her orders to move. Aches and pains filled her petite body as she grit her teeth and forced herself upright.

She wished she had stayed lying down.

There was nothing but the ocean. Just salt water and waves around her. An endless sea of dark blue rolling like wheat in a windstorm.

Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably as she pressed her back against the small board she had awoken on.

 _Where am I!?_ She thought, panic filling her as she looked all around only to see nothing.

Literally nothing.

Just water and sky. And the blazing sun above her. Already she could feel her skin beginning to bake. She glanced at her shoulders, exposed due to the design of the orange and white sundress she was wearing. They were already beginning to turn red. A trembling hand ran through her short blue locks before she took a quivering breath.

 _Don't panic. Don't panic._ She consoled herself. Deep breaths filling her lungs with sea salt infused air. If this wasn't an extremely dire situation, the environment would've almost been relaxing. She had always enjoyed taking trips to the coast in Fiore. The relaxing nature of the resorts there allowed her to read to her heart's content.

However, this wasn't a resort. This was a raft. She had no time to rest or relax. Let alone read. She quickly laced her fingers and stretched them high above her head, feeling her elbows and shoulders pop and relax.

 _That's better._ Her arms fell to her sides, _Alright. I need a boat. Or at least an oar to help me row._

She held her index finger out in front of her. Then she called on it. That finite supply of magic energy that every living being in Earthland possessed but few knew how to actually use. She concentrated it into her fingertip before using it to write a word in the air. As she did so, sweat dripped down from her brow. Her magic was not a physically exerting one like Erza's or Mira's. Her magic relied heavily on the knowledge of words. Their meanings, syntax, synonyms. She could write words with her magic. And those words became reality. If she so wished, she could muster up all of the magic in her body and conjure up a bird made of the word 'bird' to fly her away from this place.

However… unlike Erza, Mira, and the others, her magic reserves were not massive. She did not have the willpower or endurance of the strongest wizards in her guild. While they could have probably pulled off such a spell if given her powers. She could not. She wasn't strong enough. Plain and simple.

But she still should've been able to at least produce an oar from her magic. Something to help propel her through the water. To keep her from succumbing to the mercy of mother nature and her terrifying command of the ocean. But nothing came. Her finger lit up with a small glow. A trail of light spelling out oar appeared in the air. But nothing came from it. No oar was conjured. Not even a plank of wood appeared for her.

She bit her lip and gave it one more try. Somehow her magic felt nearly drained. Her small chest heaved up and down as she gasped for breath. Her eyelids began to droop from exhaustion. There was no command over her magic here. It was gone. Empty. After just two meager attempts at a spell. In Levy's mind, that made one thing very clear.

She was fucked.

The bluenette frowned and wiped the beads of sweat from her brow before taking another glance up at the sun. A small hopeful smile crossed her lips. There was a wisp of a cloud there now. Perhaps it would grow and provide her some shade. She recalled reading tales of sailors stranded aboard the wreckage of their ships. How they spoke of the sun being just as dangerous an enemy as the ocean. How after just a couple days, it felt like their skin had literally been set aflame. The burns were that intense.

She glanced down at the water. It's cold spray inviting her in.

 _I could shelter myself that way._ She thought. _Cover everything but my head in water then emerge at night. Grip my little raft the entire time. Maybe even paddle my way somewhere._

But in the back of her mind, she knew that would be unwise. Every ounce of energy had to be conserved for her to have any hope of surviving. She had no food, and she was never much of a fisherman back home. And this far out into the ocean, she doubted their were any tiny little guppies that her hands could snatch from the waves. Most likely there was tuna. Enormous fish that, if they hit her head on, could knock her out. Then there was the other terrifying possibility of what swam beneath her.

Sharks.

Levy gulped and glanced down at the murky depths.

 _There could be a Great White there. Lurking…. Waiting._ She gulped again, _Don't be silly Levy. Sharks do not eat humans. They actually actively avoid humans when possible… right?_

Then again. Sharks liked shipwrecks. And technically, this piece of wood she rested on was most likely from just that, a shipwreck.

 _A shipwreck!_

Levy jumped to her feet. Nearly falling into the waves as her sudden movement caused the board beneath her to slip and slide on the water. After several seconds of flailing and balancing, she managed to keep herself upright. Then her browns eyes began to scan. Closely looking at the horizon for any sign of- Her eyes widened.

There it was. More debris. An amalgamation of flotsam and wood drifting aimlessly on the tides. Small bits of debris began to drift by her. First just wooden planks. Upon investigation of those, Levy found several to be charred on the ends.

 _A fire?_ She set a piece of blackened wood back in the ocean, _Possibly._ But the damage wasn't right. She had read about the effects of fire on wood. It burned the wood, for sure. But these planks looked snapped. Broken and brittle. Like something had smashed into them before starting to burn.

Levy frowned. The mystery of where she was and how she got here only grew in her mind. And her only clues were the debris and-

Her gaze returned to the water and the air got caught in her throat. Floating towards her, arms splayed out, lying face down, was a pale body with long black hair. The linen clothing matted down by both the sea and- She gulped and began to take short, panicked breaths. There was blood lining the man's clothes. She peered closer and saw a hideous wound along the man's back, exposing the red muscles and white tendons beneath the pale flesh. Already it was starting to fester.

Levy felt vomit creep up her throat. She quickly turned the other way and puked over the side of her raft. And it only continued when she smelled the corpse. Her body was now shaking in fear. That was the last thing she needed to have happen. Now, not only was her body expending valuable energy on her fight or flight responses due to the sight of the dead body, but now, she had lost what little fluids she had to the sea.

She shook her head and turned to look back at the corpse as it floated away.

 _What caused that?_ She gulped, _Or…. who?_

 __Could it be that she had somehow ended up in pirate infested waters. Was their some buccaneer and his crew of scalawags clipping through the waves, preying on the defenseless. She remembered the tales of the pirates of old. Both fictional and real. Blackbeard was always the most interesting for her, even though some doubted his existence in Fiore. She always enjoyed a good pirate tale in her novels. But those were dashing rogues. Not the real thing. And the real thing, she had a feeling, were the furthest things from the handsome captains she had read about.

 _Pirates._ She thought, again looking at a plank of snapped wood, _That could explain this. Perhaps I am resting on the wreckage of a ship attacked by pirates?_

But there was one problem with that hypothesis. As far as she knew, there were no pirates along Fiore's coast. The royal army and navy had done a marvelous job of keeping the seas free and clear. Add in the presence of the wizard guilds actively taking request to take down brigands and thieves, even those that prowled the seas, and you had very safe waters. If this was indeed a pirate attack, then Levy could only draw one conclusion as to her location.

She was nowhere near Fiore.

And that reality terrified her. She had only known the country of Fiore. Her entire life, as far as she remembered, was spent in that little kingdom. Living a relatively safe life, given her choice of profession that is. Wizards hardly had the most secure lives in the world. Now, she was away from Fiore. Away from what she knew. She had no information. No way to solve this puzzle. The only solution was to be rescued. And considering how far out she believed she was, rescue was a very slim hope to cling to.

 _If only my magic would work I could get myself out of here!_ She thought before sucking in a breath.

Her magic wasn't working. But she was on Earthland. A planet filled with the particle Ethernano. That little particle allowed wizards to access their magic and create spells. They stored those particles in small biological containers deep in their bodies and called upon it when needed. Yet now, she was unable to use magic. Unable to call upon that small reservoir she had. She was literally deprived of the one thing that could rescue her from this disaster. The gears in her head turned and a startling conclusion came to her.

She could not possibly be on Earthland anymore. If she was, she would've been able to use her magic and conjure more than just an oar. She could've created an entire boat with a roof if she desired. A way to filter seawater so she could have something to drink. A fishing rod to fish with. It all would only be a temporary fix, but it would have given her a chance to survive. But the lack of magic. The lack of her ability to do anything at all told her the truth. She was not on Earthland, she was somewhere so foreign that it quite possibility did not even have a name. And that revelation shook her to her core.

She curled up on her makeshift raft, tucking her knees into her chest and resting her chin on top of her soaked legs. Levy, despite her brilliance, could not think of a way out of this. Her only hope was rescue.

 _Is this what I'm destined for._ She thought, _To die atop a plank of wood in the middle of the ocean. Succumbing to the whims of the sun and sea._ She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, _The least the universe could've done was given me a book to pass the time until then._

*Plop*

Levy blinked her eyes open and stared in front of her. There, floating in the water, just within arms reach, was a leather tome. Hundreds of pages floating precariously atop it's worn leather cover. And she just stared in awe at it. Dumbfounded by the irony, the spectacle. It seems that the universe was pulling a prank on her.

And she laughed. Quietly at first, then a little louder until she was incapable of making a noise from her gaping mouth.

 _Wow… that's funny!_

"What's so funny lass?"

Levy nearly jumped off of her raft and into the water. She had been laughing so hard, so focused on the amusement she felt, that she hadn't noticed a shadow blotting out the sun above her.

But now she saw it. Above her was a massive ship. An enormous galley to be more precise. A single, solitude mast jutted up from its deck. And strapped to that mast, was a sail as black as midnight. Emblazoned proudly on that sail, like a shining beacon to all on the ocean, was a golden kraken. Levy looked closer and saw that the hull was painted crimson. The prow of the ship was adorned with an iron stature of what appeared to be a mouthless maiden. If it wasn't for the terrifying visage of it's muted face, it would've been a beautiful sculpture to gaze on.

"Hey!"

Levy jumped again as that same sharp voice echoed in her ears. She now finally looked up at the deck of the ship. Staring down at her was a terrifying sight. To say they looked the part of pirates would've been an understatement. They were a conglomeration of mongrels and men who looked like monsters from nightmares. One she swore had barnacles growing along his right temple. Another had one eye replaced with a large globe of iron. And none opened their mouths. Some appeared to be almost sewn shut.

Then there was the man at the lead. The man addressing her. Calling to her. And giving her a wicked grin.

Unlike the rest of his crew, he was shockingly handsome. Perfectly groomed black hair ran down from the crown of his head to the base of his neck while a neatly groomed beard lined his chin. But he wasn't too neat. He still had that rogue look about him. A little scruffiness along the neck and cheeks. A sparkle was in his one eye that was as blue as the summer sky. The other eye was covered by a leather eye patch.

If he wasn't surrounded by such terrifying people, Levy would've considered him a good man upon first glance. He seemed to be of the sort that would attend galas and balls and fit right in. Yet at the same time, that sparkle, that gleam in that blue eye betrayed dangerous intentions and devastating cunning that made her shake in her orange dress.

"Can you speak girl?" The man with the eye patch asked, "Cause this is the third time I have addressed you?"

Levy nodded warily, "Yes."

The man's grin widened, "Ladder!"

Instantly a rope ladder swung over the side of the boat, the wooden rungs clattering against the hull.

"What is your name?" The man asked.

Levy quickly snatched the rope ladder and looked back up at her strange rescuers, "Levy McGarden."

"Macgarden?" The man replied, putting far too much emphasis on the beginning of her name, "Must be some new lordling's daughter from Westeros, eh boys?"

None chuckled with him.

"Forgive their poor sense of humor, Miss Levy. They've had a rather long and disappointing day." Levy planted a foot on the first rung, "And before you finish your climb up here, Miss Levy. May I give you a proper greeting."

Levy scrambled up, ready to greet her rescuer. Perhaps hope had saved her after all. She would make sure they would be thanked by not only herself but by Fairy Tail as well. No doubt, Master Makarov would pay them an enormous amount of jewel if they wished it. Levy smiled as she reached the top, the man clasping her arm and hauling her onto the deck.

The smile faded instantly. Sitting on the deck, in a hideous pyramid, was a stack of severed heads. Flies buzzing around them, clinging to the stench that nearly made Levy vomit once again. She looked at her 'rescuer' who's smiling eye gleamed at her. As if he was suddenly enjoying her nearly sick state. Levy then realized, these were not rescuers. These were not saviors. She looked over at the pile of heads and saw all of their mouths were open in an eternal scream. And their tongues were missing. A soft hand gripped her sunburned shoulder.

"Welcome aboard the _Silence_."

A heavy blow hit her head. Then all went black.

 **And chapter! Ooooooh…. That was a fun one to write! It was a lot shorter than the previous chapters. But that was intentional. If I dragged out this chapter, it may have gotten a tad dull. But I feel like I paced this one just right! And it appears, Levy is in a really bad situation. Hopefully, she will be able to get out of it. Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	6. Gray I

**Hello everyone! New chapter ready to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Gray

 _Well… at least I'm in my element._ Gray thought as he trudged through another large snowdrift.

He had awoken an hour ago. Or was it an hour ago. Honestly, he didn't know. He didn't have a watch or any other way to tell time. The sun was blocked out by fields of gray clouds above him that dumped sheets of snow. If he were a normal person, the frozen conditions he was in would've killed him. Especially given the fact that he was currently shirtless. But he was an ice make mage. Cold was his home. It was where he was most comfortable. It was where he felt powerful.

But when he had awoken, this cold felt different. Sure, he wasn't freezing. Far from it, he felt completely normal. But normally, in icy conditions like this, his magic would be slightly more impressive. Instead, he didn't feel anything really. No familiar magical buzz through his body. Not a single sensation showing that he had ethernanos coursing through him. Instead this frozen wasteland, the environment that should've welcomed him home like a prodigal son, felt hostile. Every single moment the universe spent trying to hinder his progress through the snow.

First it was a cold wind whipping over his bare chest and back. When that didn't work, it sent the snowstorm to pile the powder around him up to his knees. Then that snowstorm became a blizzard. The white flakes flying by him so thick he couldn't even see forward. All Gray could do was continue marching.

That was his only option. Move forward. If he stayed where he had woken up, who knows what would've happened. He had already concluded he wasn't in Fiore. Nowhere in Fiore was like this. Maybe Mount Hakobe. But even that treacherous peak gave way when it realized that the wizard traveling it's slopes would not relent. But this land's weather was unforgiving. No mercy was being shown.

He grimaced as the weather continued to pound him. If this was how the entire area was, then he wondered if the others were safe. When he woke up, he had been disoriented, but it didn't take him long to figure out that he had somehow been transported somewhere new. And if he had been transported somewhere new, then it was most likely correct to assume that his friends were as well. If the entire land they ended up in was this cold, then the others would not be doing so well. Erza and Natsu may be fine, the former having multiple cold weather outfits and the latter having fire magic. But Wendy, Mira, Cana, Levy, and Lucy? Gray shook his head. Once he learned where he was, he'd have to find them and fast.

Gray tilted his head back upwards, trying to see through the endless white out. His eyes widened and a small smile crossed his lips. Tall shadows jutted up from the frozen earth. Tall, triangular shadows. And lots of them.

 _A forest! Perfect!_ He thought as he resumed his trek, _Forest means food. Forest means shelter._ He paused and looked straight up at the sky. _A forest means a break from this bullshit._

After several more minutes of walking, the edge of the forest came into view. Gray stopped to catch his breath. He could now see it misting in front of his face. The cold was only getting worse. He may specialize in Ice magic. But even he had his limits. The only person he could think of that would have faced this cold and laughed was his old teacher.

A sad smile crossed Gray's face at the thought of her. Ur Milkovich, the woman who saved his life… twice. Who taught him ice make magic. Molded him into the man he was today.

 _Yeah… this would've been nothing for her._

He rolled his shoulders and sighed.

 _Gotta keep moving. Keep the blood flowing._

Once he entered the forest, the storm seemed to relent. The massive pines surrounding him provided a natural barrier from the howling winds and blinding snow, allowing the dark haired man to finally see easily.

He strode up beside a large pine, leaving trenches in the snow where he had dragged his feet through. His dark eyes scanned his surroundings.

Other than the dark pines there was nothing. No other tracks, no other movements. The snow was as clean and unblemished as a new sheet. Gray cocked his head to the side, trying to hear any sound over the wind that whipped through the trees. Other than the groaning of branches straining against the weather, there was no sounds. No birds chirping above him. No chatter from squirrels. Not even the soft padding of hooves on the snowy surface. There was only silence.

He gulped. Silence in this situation was a bad thing. He still had no clue where he might be. An animal or, best case scenario, another human being would help tremendously. He could figure out where he was then. Find out how to get home. Maybe even learn why his magic felt so strange in this land.

But the only person in this forest was himself. He had half a mind to believe that the only living creature in the entire forest was himself. This entire land seemed uninhabited. Maybe it was far too hostile for normal animals to live in. Gray could understand that. If this is the weather on a normal day, then he'd hate to see a day where a storm came through.

The forest only thickened as he marched further into its depths. The snow came down in soft spurts instead of massive sheets. Little snowflakes rested gently on top of his dark, spiky locks while the snow around his knees slowly lowered, allowing him room to move more easily. Eventually, the great snowdrifts he had been trudging through became small piles that barely reached his ankles.

But the cold remained. And it was only getting worse. Gray was actually starting to feel it now. It started off as a small pinprick on his fingertips. Just a little chill biting at his skin. Then it gradually became an ache that spread over his hands, then his bare torso, until finally he was forced to wrap his frigid arms around his body in order to stay warm.

 _This is bad._ He gulped, seeing his own breath easily misting out in front of him, _This is really bad._

A loud whine echoed around him, causing Gray to nearly jump out of his own skin. It was the first sound he had heard other than his own breathing and the crunch of snow beneath his feet. Relief then flooded him as he heard that same whine again followed by a snort. He knew what that animal was.

It was a horse's whine. And if there was a horse, then there may be another person.

 _And if there is no other person. Then maybe that horse can get me out of here._ Gray thought as he rubbed his hands together, _Damn it all, why is it so cold!_

 __He slowly moved towards sounds of the horse, his feet falling softly in the powdery mounds around him. After several moments, he caught sight of not one, but three black horses, standing in a circle in the snow. Their hooves clomping into the earth.

He was about to rush up to one of them when he heard voices. One voice was gruff and scratchy. The second was much more quiet, almost submissive. And the last voice was crystal clear, pompous, and commanding. Gray slipped back behind a tree trunk as he saw three men in black cloaks and black leather armor emerge from behind at thicket.

"I'm telling you the truth!" The man with the quieter voice snapped as he adjusted the wool cap that sheltered his thin head from the biting cold, "I saw what I saw."

"So what?" The pompous one, clearly more well fed than the other two remarked, "You saw a group of dead Wildlings. That is nothing new."

"But this was different."

"How?" The last man asked the first, his grizzled face turning to look at his younger companion.

"They were… arranged."

The older man, spat in the snow, "Arranged?"

"He's just seeing things old man." The second rider dismissed as he adjusted the straps of his horse's saddle, "C'mon, our ranging here is done. I'm looking forward to a hot meal back at Castle Black."

"Will you just come and see!?"

The other two men looked at their youngest companion. The grizzled one spat again, his jaded eyes lazily moving over to his partner, who Gray now deduced was the leader of this small band he had encountered.

"How far off, Will?" The eldest asked.

"Not even a mile north." The youngest replied.

"Gareth…" The leader of the group sighed before angrily shutting his saddle pack, "Fine! Fine! Let's go see your dead Wildlings."

"Wildlings?" Gray whispered to himself as the trio of men in black marched away from their horses. As soon as they had disappeared, Gray cast his eyes back on the horses.

This was his chance. Take a horse and go. One of those men could ride with the another. It would be easy for them to do. They wouldn't miss one horse, would they? Gray took a step forward then a step back. His eyes then turned to the tracks the trio of men had left.

"Don't bother, Gray." He muttered to himself, "Don't do it. Just take a horse and go."

He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Something was very wrong. He could feel it in his gut. First the torrential snow storm, now this biting cold that made even him shiver. Gray blinked. He was shivering. That never happened. Ever.

A scream echoed around him. One of the men was screaming in absolute terror. A shrill cry that shot down Gray's spine and made his skin crawl.

"Dammit all!"

He bounded after the men. He may be many things in life, but he was certainly not someone who would leave another at the mercy of something terrifying. That's the only way a man would scream like that. If something bone chilling had come in their path.

Gray raced through the snow, all thoughts of the cold pushed to the back of his mind. What he saw next, made his blood freeze in his veins.

Two of the men were dead, their blood already freezing to the snow mounds on the ground. Gray gulped. One was headless. He could feel his body starting to tremble again. But not from the cold. Now he was afraid.

 _Wait a moment… where is the third?_

Gray heard another loud cry followed by sobbing. He whipped his gaze right and saw it.

Another man? If you could even call it a man. It's hair was long, wispy, and white. It's body was bone thin, as if it hadn't eaten in days, even weeks. The skin that rested on the bones was as pale as the snow around Gray, with veins of blue throbbing beneath it. Only ragged, brown trouser clothed the monstrous creature. And in its right hand was a long, sharp shard of ice stained red.

Every instinct in Gray told him to turn tail and run. And that made him even more afraid. He had never encountered something that made him want to run like this. The only time he had was with…

"Deliora." Gray whispered, the name causing his entire body to shake.

Was this thing a demon of some sort? Had he stumbled across another horrifying monster from the books of Zeref? Gray felt his teeth chattering in his mouth as he took a small step back.

*SNAP*

Gray's breath got stuck in his throat. His dark eyes slowly went down to see a small twig crushed beneath his foot.

 _No! NO!_ Gray looked up quickly. The ice man slowly turned to face away from the sobbing man in black. It's eyes were as blue as sapphires yet seemed to be cracked and opaque like a sheet of ice. It's lips had curled into a frown upon seeing Gray. The shard of ice in it's hand shifted and it marched towards him.

Panic seized Gray. He stumbled back, slipping in the snow and falling hard to the ground. The monster hovered over him, emotionless. It raised its weapon. Gray gulped and raised his hands, hoping that the razor sharp shard would only scar his hands and not bury itself in his chest. Just as the creature decided to bring the bloody shard down on him, Gray heard the sound of steel being unsheathed. The young man in black had gotten to his feet and jumped at the monster. He swung his blade at the creature's back. A blow that would kill any man.

Gray's eyes widened as the steel hit the creature, then shattered into a million pieces. The man in black looked at his sword hilt in horror before falling backwards as well. The monster closed it's eyes and turned away from Gray. It's killing intent now focused on the sole surviving member of the trio Gray had come across.

"Please don't." Will whimpered, "Please."

Gray watched as the creature stood over the defeated man. It raised it's shard.

 _No! I won't let another demon hurt someone!_

Gray jumped to his feet and smacked his fist into his open hand before placing them beside his hip. He narrowed his eyes, forcing all fear and panic out of his body.

" **Ice Make: Hammer!"**

He felt it. Magic coursing through his body. And it was stronger than normal. His dark eyes widened in shock as he conjured a hammer larger than any other he had created before. He gripped the massive ice weapon in his hands before rearing back and swinging with all his might at the creature. Unlike Will's sword, the ice hammer hit, and it sent the demon flying into the nearest tree.

 _There's no way something like that is dead after one hit._ He thought.

But he didn't wait for the thing to get up. He dispelled his magic and rushed up to the man named Will, who stared at him wide eyed and clearly terrified. Gray reached out towards him.

"C'mon!" Gray snapped.

Will looked at Gray's hand, fearful and uncertain. He yelped as Gray gripped the neck of his shirt.

"Are you more afraid of me or that thing!? Cause for me, this would be an easy choice!"

Will rapidly nodded and stumbled to his feet.

"We need to run." He told Gray hoarsely, "The white walkers are here. And so are the dead."

"The dead?"

"We must run." Will whimpered as he began to sprint south with Gray close on his heels.

"Run where!?" Gray asked.

"Away from here." Will muttered, "Away from the North." He shook his head, "The White Walkers…" he muttered, "It's the White Walkers."

"I get it! We need to get away from here!" Gray shouted at him as he followed the man, both completely forgetting about the horses that remained in the forest, "But where will we…" Gray stopped sprinting as they came out of the forest.

In front of him, towering hundreds of feet into the gray sky, was a wall made entirely of ice. It was the largest thing Gray had ever seen. A behemoth that stretched on for what seemed like forever both east and west. He couldn't even see the top as he faltered behind Will.

"Go…" He finally finished.

"South." Will finally replied.

Gray blinked, "To where?" He recalled the conversation he had overheard earlier, "To Castle Black?" _Whatever that place is._

Will shook his head, "They won't believe. Even if they did, they won't help. They can't help. We need more men, we need more help." His sprint began to slow as they finally got within a hundred meters of the massive Ice wall.

"And where will you get all of this help?" Gray asked as they reached an opening in the wall, a small gate that appeared to be sealed shut. "And how in the world are we getting over that!?"

"Not over… under." Will replied. He rubbed his hands, "This gate leads to the Nightfort. From there, we go south, to Winterfell."

Gray nodded then frowned.

 _White Walkers… that's what that demon thing was called. Nightfort, Castle Black, Winterfell. Yup… definitely not in Fiore anymore._

As Will attempted to get the gate open, Gray tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey um… I know we just faced a demon of some sort back there, but do you have time to tell me what the actual fuck is going on!? Like where am I? What is a White Walker? Why are you so damn afraid of it? For that matter, why was I so damn afraid of it?"

"You should be afraid of them." Will replied, his voice rising in frustration, "The Others… the White Walkers. They are the harbingers of the Long Night. An endless winter that will ravage the lands and kill us all." He grunted as he finally managed to pry the gate open and swing it inward, "They were only supposed to be legends." He whispered to himself, "Children's stories."

"That's a children's story!" Gray cried.

Will nodded and moved into the tunnel beneath the Wall. Gray cast one look back at the forest before sighing.

 _Follow the frantic, stranger into a dark and mysterious tunnel beneath a massive ice wall into a place called the Nightfort._

He frowned then went in, the gate sealing shut behind him. The darkness of the tunnel consumed them both. Only the sound of their footsteps beside each other allow the other to know that they were moving in the right direction.

 _This isn't a stupid idea at all._

 **And chapter! Again, a shorter chapter. I know for those of you who've read my other stories, you've gotten used to me cranking out chapters that are 6,000+ words. I'm not going to do that with this story. Mostly because each chapter focuses on just one character's perspective. Also, these beginning chapters are a little shorter because they are just setting everything up. Putting our characters where they are supposed to be for the story. They will get longer and more detailed as the story goes along, I promise.**

 **I also thought this was a good way to reinvent Gray's arc in this story. He won't just join the Night's Watch right away. Instead, he saves that guy who deserts and flees to Winterfell. I always wondered how he managed to escape the White Walker. I guess now we know (At least in the context of this story). Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	7. Erza II

**Another chapter ready to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

She folded her hands in front of her blue skirt and bowed her head, chin resting near her neck as she stood outside the reinforced wooden door that led to Lord Eddard Stark's solar. She had been awoken early in the morning by one of Winterfell's many castle servants. The servant had informed her that Lord Stark wished to speak with her as soon as she was decent and fed. So, after quickly washing, polishing her armor, and grabbing a small bite to eat (She still hated how strawberry cake was not a common dish here) she had made her way to Lord Stark's solar. Only to find it closed.

 _He must be busy with something._ She thought as she tapped her right thumb against the back of her left hand. Her mind still wandered to the last conversation she had with Lord Stark. He knew she was lying to him about who she was and where she was from. And that had made him very suspicious of her.

 _Unlike Fiore, strangers aren't treated like guests right away._ Erza noted to herself.

"Waiting outside as well?"

Her head snapped up to see a familiar face approaching her. That face belonged to the young man named Jon Snow. Or as others called him, the Bastard of Winterfell. She cringed at that nickname. Why someone would call another person such a horrid, derogatory word was beyond her comprehension. Yet it seemed to be said regularly in regards to Jon Snow. Perhaps he really was a bastard of a person. But Erza's first impression of him back at the Wolfswood did not reinforce that belief.

Jon stopped walking and leaned up against the wall beside Erza, content to remain silent as he too waited upon Lord Stark.

"So why are you waiting out here too?" Erza suddenly asked, breaking the long pause between the pair.

"Hm?" Jon sighed, "Lord Stark wished to see me as well. What it is about, I don't know."

Erza nodded, "I see. Well, you'll have to wait a tad longer." She smirked, "I got here first."

She saw the dark haired boy nod sullenly, not understanding Erza was simply joking, "Understandable."

Erza snorted, "Laugh a little. I was joking." Jon raised his eyebrows in confusion, "Honestly, if you want to go first, go for it. It gives me more time to think of what I'm going to say to Lord Stark."

"Say to him?"

Erza nodded, "He wants to… interrogate me, I suppose."

"Ah. He wants to know who you are and where you are from."

"Aye." Erza replied, causing Jon to double take.

"Aye?"

Erza glanced at him, "Aye… as in yes. Or I agree."

"I know that." Jon replied, folding his hands in front of him as well, "I just thought that was something sailors and pirates said. Not women."

A small laugh left Erza's lips, "You obviously know nothing, Jon Snow."

The door opened a crack. An elderly man wearing dark grey robes and a chain over his shoulders looked at Erza.

"Lord Stark is ready for you Miss Scarlet." He said quietly.

Erza nodded and placed a hand on the door while Jon looked at her, completely puzzled.

"What do you mean I know nothing?" He asked before the door closed behind Erza.

….

Ned's brow furrowed as he stared at the parchment in front of him.

"A dispute over territory between Lord Bolton and Lord Karstark in regards to fishing rights in the…" He shook his head without finishing, "Damn Boltons…"

"What does the Lord of the Dreadfort want this time, my Lord?" An elderly man in dark grey robes with a chain around his shoulders asked.

"He wants exclusive fishing rights in some gods forsaken river, Luwin." Ned replied, wiping his chin with his hand, "But the last thing I want to do is give more concessions to Roose Bolton." He set the paper to the side, "The man is a snake without a shred of honor in him."

"But he is your most powerful bannerman." Luwin replied.

"Unfortunately." Ned replied with a scowl.

"Perhaps, some time to consider the matter before making a decision would be the best approach?"

The Lord of Winterfell nodded, "Perhaps." He rolled the parchment up and set it in a drawer in the desk he was sitting at, "And I know how to make time. Miss Scarlet should be waiting outside, send her in."

Luwin replied with a small nod before shuffling over to the door. Within a couple moments, the red haired woman strode in, her body still in the same armor and skirt she had worn the previous day. Only now, her armor looked spotless. It was so well polished that Ned could easily see his reflection in the steel. His inner warrior nodded in approval.

 _A knight who takes care of her equipment._ He set his quill down on the desk and folded his hands, _She clearly knows her way around arms._

In the morning light that streamed through the glass window behind him, Ned finally got a better glimpse of the woman that saved Arya's life. Torch and candlelight could only provide so much. And the previous night had been an exhausting whirlwind which caused the Lord of Winterfell to desire the comforts of his bed chamber earlier than he had intended. So he did not pay attention to Erza Scarlet as much as he felt he should have.

Now that he did, he was thoroughly shocked by who he saw standing in front of him.

She looked no older than nineteen years. Her young face without blemish and as smooth as the finest porcelain from Essos. Her long hair was a stunning red color that was no doubt the cause of her unique surname. Bright, brown eyes looked back at him. Beyond the face though, Ned could not see much of her. The armor she wore hid most of her body. Although he could tell she did have a bit of a girlish side to her, judging from the strange blue skirt she had on with her armor.

Her mannerisms however, spoke of a girl who had seen battles, who had been in plenty of fights, and came out victorious. She carried herself tall, confidence brimming from her. But not arrogance. At least, none that Ned could see. Though in his experience, all men had an area of life they were arrogant in.

"I see you were waiting."

"As patiently as I could, um… my lord." Erza replied, again uncertain of how to address Ned.

"You are speaking just fine, Miss Scarlet. No need to hesitate with the titles."

"Oh… well, I will do my best to correct that." She stopped speaking before jumping and quickly finishing with, "My Lord."

Ned twitched his mouth and glanced at his Maester, Luwin.

The old man was a Maester from Old Town. One of the most educated people in all of Westeros. The man had nearly his entire chain completed, save for one or two exclusive practices from the city of knowledge that Luwin decided not to dabble in. He had served Ned's father and now he served Ned. No one in the city knew of the Stark's history or heritage better than the old Maester. None, save for Ned himself.

It was for those reasons that Ned always kept him close at hand. He was his most trusted adviser. The one he trusted, not only to gain the opinion on courses of actions when problem occurred in his hold, but also the one he trusted to educate all of his children. From Robb and Sansa, all the way down to young Rickon. His opinion was held highly by the Lord of Winterfell. So when the Maester cocked his head to the side in a peculiar manner as he studied Erza, Ned felt some concern build in him.

"You are not from Westeros at all, are you, Miss Erza?" Luwin inquired.

Erza visibly gulped. Ned could see her struggling in her mind. Torn between telling a lie and admitting a hard to believe truth. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Erza," He said firmly, "You are in my household as a guest. But do know, that I do not take lying lightly. Especially when it concerns strangers I have only recently met."

Erza closed her eyes and sighed, "No, Lord Stark, I am not from Westeros."

"I thought so." Maester Luwin nodded, "Her manner of speech, accent, attire, everything about her screams foreign."

Ned breathed a slight sigh of relief. Most likely, the girl was from Essos. Which meant that she was not a danger sent to him from some rival house, nor a random sellsword looking to simply pocket gold from a gullible Lord. She was just a girl in armor who knew how to fight. Not dangerous at all. He reached over to a glass of a water he always kept at his desk and brought it to his lips.

"I am actually from another world entirely, Lord Stark."

Ned felt himself almost choke on the water he was drinking. A few sputtering coughs wracked his lungs before he took a deep breath and stared hard at Erza.

"I beg your pardon?"

Maester Luwin stared equally dumbfounded at Erza, his mind torn between shock, disbelief, and academic intrigue.

"I am not from this world, Lord Stark." Erza repeated, "I um… I come from a world called Earthland. More specifically, a kingdom called Fiore."

Ned stared at her, then his lips parted in a rare smile as he chuckled, his head bowing so that he stared at the desk for a moment.

"You…" He laughed again before looking up at Erza, "You can't be serious. This must be some sort of jape."

Erza raised an eyebrow, "Um… what's a jape?"

"I believe you referred to a jape as a joke, Miss Erza." Maester Luwin replied. Erza looked at him inquisitively, "I overheard your conversation with Jon."

"Ah." Erza replied before returning her attention to Lord Stark, "So, you think I am joking."

"Oh absolutely." Ned took a breath, "And you have precisely ten seconds to tell me the truth before I have my captain of the guard drag you out of my city and send you away from my hold for all time."

Erza tensed and closed her eyes, "I guess… there is only one way really, to prove to you that I am from another world." She opened her eyes, "But I may need a little more than ten seconds to explain."

Ned waved his hand, "By all means, do tell."

Erza nodded and closed her eyes, every muscle in her tensing as she focused. She called upon her magic power that she knew was lying within her, just waiting to be unleashed once again. And once again, she felt her connection to it completely stifled. She couldn't feel a single buzz of magic in her body.

 _C'mon. WORK!_ She focused hard, ignoring the sweat staring to bead down her head, _WORK!_

 __She felt it. A tingling in her fingertips that slowly spread over her entire hand. A triumphant grin spread over her face. It wasn't much, but it would be enough. She opened her eyes to see a confused Eddard Stark and Maester Luwin waiting for an explanation.

" **Requip!"** She suddenly barked.

Her hand became engulfed in bright golden light. Maester Luwin jumped up from his seat and took several steps away from Erza. Ned rose from his chair slowly, his hand slowly crawling across his desk towards the dagger he had nearby. The light remained around Erza's hand for a few moments before disappearing.

Both Ned and Luwin's eyes widened in shock. Resting in Erza's easy grip, was a longsword. A perfectly polished, sharpened, and very real longsword

"You see, Lord Stark." Erza raised the longsword in front of her face, her other hand grasping the hilt as well, "I come from a world filled with magic. Everything and everybody in the world I come from has magic in them. However, only a select few actually know how to tap into that magic power. And those select few, are known as wizards." Erza let out a long breath and the sword disappeared in a brief flash of golden light.

Her breaths came out slightly shallow as she suddenly felt light headed. Erza felt herself sway backwards for a moment before quickly catching her balance once again. She quickly shook the cobwebs that had randomly crept into her mind before looking once again at Lord Stark and Maester Luwin.

Luwin still looked completely amazed. His aged eyes remained wide as he gazed at Erza. But Lord Stark's shock had faded. Instead, he stared intensely at Erza, mouth buried behind his folded hands. Erza felt like his eyes were boring holes into her, trying to decide if what he saw was real, and if it was, whether or not she was dangerous.

"So… you are a witch?" Ned asked.

Erza cringed, "No… wizard. There is a distinct difference." Erza smirked, "I'm not really good at the whole brewing potions and cackling thing."

"But you do use this… magic." Lord Stark replied, not even a twitch crossed his lips after Erza's jape.

"Aye." Erza nodded, "Though I will admit, it is very… subdued in this world. I am having a great degree of difficulty accessing my full reserves to perform my requip magic."

"Full reserves?" Maester Luwin asked.

Erza nodded, "Requiping a sword is normally no effort at all for me. Heck… normally I can requip a full set of armor within several seconds."

"You change into a whole new set of armor within several seconds!?" Luwin exclaimed.

"Aye. I can't demonstrate that, unfortunately. As I said, the magic in this world is very-"

"Subdued." Ned nodded, "Apparently so." He rose from his seat, "And apparently, you are telling the truth. You are from another world, Miss Scarlet." He frowned, "But now I must ask this, you are clearly very powerful. So that must make you very dangerous? Is this true?"

Erza sighed and nodded, "Yes, that is true."

"How dangerous?"

"Back home, I am a wizard who takes on S-class requests and-"

"Hold on, S-class requests?" Maester Luwin cocked an eyebrow, "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"I suppose I should explain a little more." Erza replied, "Wizards in my world join wizard guilds in order to earn fame and fortune. It is a way for them to use their magic to help the people of my world. Most jobs are menial tasks. Finding a lost item, interpreting an ancient text, guarding a vault of some sorts. However, there are these other requests known as S-class requests. These are the requests that usually involve life or death situations. Gigantic monsters, dark guilds, evil wizards," Erza sighed, "The usual."

"The usual!?" Maester Luwin snorted, "You act as if that is normal!"

"For me it is." Erza replied, "I've been an S-class wizard since I was thirteen years old."

"Thirteen!" Ned's eyes widened slightly.

"Aye. And I was younger when I took my first regular guild job." She searched her memory for a moment, "I think I was maybe, eight or nine."

Maester Luwin let out a long breath and raked a hand over his balding head. Meanwhile, Ned rubbing his face and frowned.

"This is a lot to take in." He muttered, "So… to put it more simply, you are a bounty hunter wizard who is absurdly powerful."

Erza tilted her head to the side, "Bounty hunter? Never thought of it that way before. But I suppose the description fits."

Ned glanced at Luwin who shrugged.

"This is out of my expertise, my lord."

"Of course it is." Ned mumbled, "Erza, please um… wait outside a moment longer. And send Jon in, I know he's waiting out there. I need to ponder all of this for a moment."

Erza nodded, "I understand." She quickly turned on her heel and opened the door. As she walked out, Jon stared at her wide eyed.

"A wizard?" he muttered.

"Aye." Erza replied with a small smirk.

Jon nodded, "Aye…" He replied before absently walking into the doorframe. He winced and rolled his shoulder before quietly entering Lord Stark's solar and shutting the door behind him.

….

Jon grimaced as he stood in front of a now pacing Lord Stark.

"I take it we are not discussing what I plan to do with my life now, Lord Stark?" Jon asked as he waited with bated breath.

Ned shook his head, "We will discuss the path you wish to take in due time, Jon. For now… I need to…" He ran a hand through his long hair and groaned, "Do you believe she speaks truthfully?"

Jon shrugged, "She has no reason not to." he glanced over at the door, "To be honest, it sounds entirely insane to me as well. Then again, the thought of another winter sounds insane to me, considering I can't remember the last one that supposedly occurred over a decade ago." He looked back at Lord Stark, "And we know her heart is in the right place. She did save Arya, without any knowledge of who she was and without any need or cause to want to do so."

Ned nodded, "Indeed she did." He looked over at Luwin, "And what do you make of all of this?"

Luwin let out a long sigh, "I'm not entirely sure, my Lord. I am a man of learning. I believe in what can and cannot be proven, with the only exception being the realm of the gods." He pursed his lips, "I have read strange tales of witches from Asshai with immense magic power and warlocks in the free cities with ghostly visages and magics that are the stuff of nightmares. When I think of the supernatural, that is what comes to my mind. But that is supernatural for our world. In her mind," Luwin nodded towards the door, "That is an everyday occurrence. And… she did prove it. She cannot possibly be from any place we know of. Even the Red Priests do not command powers that Miss Erza does." Luwin nodded, "I believe she is telling the truth, as insane and fantastical as it sounds."

Ned sat down once again in his chair, "Alright, so she is telling the truth. And the truth makes her incredibly dangerous." He frowned.

"You want to know what to do with her, Lord Stark?" Luwin inquired.

"Ideas would very much be appreciated, yes." Ned replied.

"Keep her around." jon instantly answered.

Ned glanced at the boy, surprised by how sure of his answer he was. Jon was a quiet lad, content with staying in the background of Winterfell, away from judging eyes of others. Living that life had led him to become a tad timid and uncertain. For him to answer with such conviction surprised the Lord of Winterfell. It actually brought a proud smile to his face.

"Keep her?"

"Aye- uh- I mean, yes, My Lord." Jon stammered, "She was willing to protect Arya without any thought of a reward. Why not have her protect all of your children? After all, Jory can't do it all the time. He is captain of the guard. And the North is a harsh and treacherous land. If one of the children do want to venture beyond the walls, we can be assured that a very powerful warrior is watching out for them while you remain here to do your duties as Warden of the North."

Ned smiled a little again. Jon could've had entirely selfish reasons for everything he did. But as always, the boy did not speak of them. He put them to the side in favor of making sure the rest of House Stark was taken care of. It was a pity he was born a bastard, Ned had no doubt that if he were a legitimate son, he would make a great Lord in the realm. Gods knew they needed more honorable ones like Jon.

"Thank you, Jon." Ned nodded at the door, "Call her in."

Jon nodded and pulled the door open. Once again, Erza came quietly inside the solar.

"I've made a decision." Ned said as he stared at Erza, "I want to know before I announce it, how did you come here to Westeros?"

Erza frowned, "To be honest, Lord Stark, I haven't a clue. One moment, I was sitting in a friend's house with several of my fellow guild mates, the next I was waking up in a snowdrift near your castle." Erza shifted her feet, "What I do know, is that if I'm here, then my friends may have ended up in this world as well. And they might not be in as ideal of a situation as I am now."

"You're concerned for your guild mates?" Luwin remarked.

"Of course I am!" Erza snapped back, "They aren't just my guild mates." She straightened upright, "They are my family. The only one I know. And if they are in any trouble or danger I intend to find them and help them."

Ned glanced at Luwin, and he saw the old Maester smile.

"So, you intend to search for your family then?" Ned asked.

"Aye."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

Erza shrugged, "Start walking in a direction and shouting their names most likely."

Jon chuckled a little at what he thought was a jape. But a serious gaze from Erza quickly silenced him.

"Sorry." Jon quickly apologized.

"Well, Erza…" Ned got to his feet and moved around his desk so that he stood face to face with her, "Shouting names into the wind will not get you far. Especially given how vast the North is, let alone the entirety of Westeros. You will need help."

"And… and you want to help me?" Erza asked, starting to understand where Lord Stark may be going.

"I do, yes. But I want something in return as well." He took a breath, "I want you to be my children's guardian. I want you to protect them, look out for them, make sure little Arya doesn't run off again and that Bran doesn't break something climbing about the castle. I want you to watch out for Rob as he attempts to bumble his way into manhood. I want to you to suffer through Sansa's constant daydreaming of handsome knights and princesses, and to protect Rickon from gods know what as he learns about the world he now lives in. I wish I could do it myself. I want to do all of that myself. But I am the Warden of the North. I have many responsibilities that I must accomplish. And far too many times, being a father has not been my priority, let alone being a constant protector for my children. I need you to be a bodyguard for them. The incident with Arya yesterday has proved that need is great."

Erza seemed shocked by Lord Stark's request. She stared at him wide eyed.

"In exchange," Ned continued, "I will pay you what you would normally receive for such a request. I would also provide you with a place to live here in the castle, just as I would for any other knight that would come into my service. And I will provide as much resources as possible to help you find your family." Erza's eyes lit up. "But I need to know if you are willing to do carry out such a task."

Erza's eyes dropped to the floor for a moment. He did have a point. She couldn't just go wandering through a land she did not know searching for her family in what could be an endless sea of people. Without magic no less. She may be an excellent swordsman, but her magic is what gave her an edge in every battle. Without that, she could be easy prey for bandits or marauders in this clearly unforgiving world. That, and she would have no idea where to start looking. The continent must be vast for an entire area to be sectioned of and ruled under one man as if it were a completely separate Kingdom. Trying to find her family would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. And she had no leads.

This would give her the chance to find leads. To make the connections needed to establish contact. To search without having to risk the dangers of this new world. And she would have help in doing it. Erza nodded to herself. It may be the slower road in her mind, but it was the safer one. She looked up at Lord Stark and smiled.

"When do I start?"

 **And chapter! A slower chapter there for you guys. Again, a lot of establishing characters, motivations, and other important exposition. We will get action in a little bit don't worry.**

 **I especially enjoy writing these Erza chapters. To me, Season 1 of game of thrones is the Stark's season. It focuses heavily on them and allows that family to really shine. So it is very fun and interesting to write Erza's perspective given that dynamic in the story. I can't wait to do more! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	8. Wendy II

**Hello again everyone! I have a long weekend (THANK GOD) So I have a lot of time to write! Here's a new chapter for everyone! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Wendy

Wendy frowned as she stared down at the large map spread out over the desk she sat behind. Her eyes scanned each speck of land painted on the piece of parchment. Each speck bore a name so unfamiliar to her that she had difficulty pronouncing some of them. Names such as Westeros, Essos, Dorne, Valyria. But no Fiore. None at all.

She asked Petyr for a map the previous evening. After all, she was anxious to get home. Or at least learn where home was so she could eventually return once her leg fully healed. And so, for the past hour this morning, since she had awoken, she had been studying the map. Attempting to wrap her head around the unfamiliar land masses that dotted the world. To her right, the still comatose Carla shifted in her slumber, mumbling something about tea before snoring once again.

 _Hang in there Carla._ Wendy thought as she glanced at her oldest friend before returning her attention to the map, her finger tracing a line from the northern most border of westeros all the way down to the southern coast.

"Where in the world am I?" She muttered.

"Your finger is a tad south, Wendy."

Wendy's head jerked up to see Petyr calmly entering, wearing loose pants and a loose fitting shirt. He yawned and rubbed his right eye before pulling a seat over from the wall, setting it beside Wendy, and sitting down.

"A little early to be studying geography, don't you think?"

Wendy shook her head, "I'm trying to find my home."

"Ah." Petyr nodded, "I see. You are attempting to find Fiore on a map."

"Yes!" Wendy replied.

Petyr grimaced, "Well, it's my great misfortune to inform you, that I have never heard of Fiore. And if I have never heard of it, then I doubt any map makers or surveyors have as well." He saw Wendy's face suddenly become downcast as she gulped and stared down at the map, "But…" He continued, "That doesn't mean we can't learn a little bit. Who knows, perhaps while you learn about this land, you will stumble across a clue about your own. After all, the more you know the more powerful you become."

Wendy glanced at him, "Really?"

"Really." Petyr smiled, "My first lesson I will impart upon you, Wendy Marvell. Knowledge is power. You could have all the gold, all of the brawn, all of the men at your beckon call. But if you are too stupid to use it, then they are all useless. And… one of the most important steps to obtaining knowledge, is to learn about your surroundings."

Wendy smiled then nodded, "That makes sense I suppose." She frowned once again though, "I just find it really weird that Fiore hasn't been discovered by your kingdom."

"Perhaps Fiore is on the far side of the world, a place where we have yet to sail." Petyr shrugged, "For all we know, we have stumbled across it, and it has just been given a different name than you are used to. The only way you will find out is to study this." He tapped a finger onto the map, "Would you like some help?"

"Um… sure." Wendy hesitantly nodded.

Petyr smiled, "I always enjoyed teaching others." He remarked as he drew his chair closer to the map, "It always brought me great pleasure to enlighten those wishing to learn." He spread a hand over a the large continent on the left side of the map, "As you can probably guess," He began, "This is Westeros, the continent you are currently in. The continent I call home." He moved his hand over to the right, "And here, is the other great continent of the world… Essos. Home of the the Free Cities, Slaver's Bay, the Shadows of Asshai, and the Dothraki horse lords."

"Horse lords?" Wendy asked, intrigued.

"Indeed, horse lords." Petyr replied, "Most consider them to be just savages. But they are another culture nonetheless. A fascinating one to study, I assure you. But I suggest we move away from Essos for now, and focus on places that are little closer to home for you." He moved his hand back to Westeros, "Now… Westeros is divided into something called the Seven Kingdoms. Those seven kingdoms being Dorne, the Reach, the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Vale, the Iron Islands, and lastly, the North."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow as she followed Petyr's finger to each of the seven kingdoms.

"But… what about all the space in between?"

"The space in between?"

"Yes," Wendy pointed at a trio of rivers situated between the North and the rest of the seven kingdoms, "Like this place. It doesn't seem to fall into any of the seven kingdoms."

Petyr smirked, "You are very observant, aren't you?" Wendy smiled back, "You are correct Wendy, the Riverlands do not fall under the jurisdiction of one of the seven great houses. They are their own entity, but still under the rule of King Robert. Just as the Crownlands, the Neck, and the lands along the Kingsroad are under the rule of the King."

Wendy's eyes widened as she placed her hand on the map, "So all of this is ruled by King Robert?"

"Indeed."

"By himself!?"

Petyr smirked, "Not really. While King Robert is King of Westeros, it would be impossible for him to efficiently and effectively rule all seven kingdoms simultaneously. That is why he appoints different Lords to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And those Lords appoint other Lords or knights to help rule their little section of the land, and so on and so forth."

Wendy narrowed her eyes, puzzled, "So… that means King Robert doesn't really rule the Seven Kingdoms. And if he doesn't… then who does?"

Petyr's eyes sparkled for a moment, "And now you begin to see how politics works. And so quickly took! I'm impressed."

He rose to his feet and strode across the room, the morning light illuminating his way to a bookshelf stocked full of massive volumes and tomes. His finger ran along the leather bound spines before he finally tapped one and gently removed it from the shelf. His small hand wiped some dust from the thick cover.

"I haven't read this one in quite some time." He strolled back over to Wendy, "A History of the Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. The great houses at least. The ones who rule the vast swathes of land and report directly to King Robert."

Wendy stared stunned at the massive volume Petyr set down on top of the map. Her shocked expression made Petyr chuckle.

"It is quite the read indeed. And it can be a bit of bore at times. But the exciting parts are truly exciting."

"Exciting parts?"

"Yes… tales of war. Knights and Kings. Witches, dragons, thievery, and bravery."

Wendy jumped to her feet, "Dragons! Really!?"

"Yes." Petyr nodded, "Dragons."

"There are dragons in Westeros!"

Petyr noted the excitement on Wendy's face. Her eyes seemingly shimmered with delight as she giddily awaited his response.

"Not anymore." Petyr replied, his face momentarily crestfallen. Wendy's face drooped, "The last dragons died out along with the Targaryen kings. Even then, the last dragons were small. No bigger than a lap dog at times. At least, that is what the Maesters of old recorded."

"Oh." Wendy replied glumly.

Petyr sat down beside Wendy, "What? Disappointed that the fantasies of childhood are no longer a reality."

Wendy shook her head, "Not that no. It's just that I-"

She glanced at Petyr, who was intently listening. As if he was hanging on every word that came out of her mouth. And she smiled. It was nice to have someone listen to her like this. Too often, even at Cait Shelter before she had joined Fairy Tail, she was dismissed as just a little kid when she spoke. But now, an adult was listening to her. Asking her opinion. Willingly teaching her. She experienced this a little bit with Fairy Tail, but she had barely joined when she had suddenly wound up here in Westeros. It made her want to keep speaking. To pour out everything she knew to Petyr. She couldn't help but feel like she trusted him. After all, why shouldn't she? He helped her when she arrived in this land. Bandaged her leg, gave her food to eat, a roof over her and Carla's heads, even offered to teach her about this land. Only a friend would do that.

"I was raised by a dragon." Wendy admitted.

Petyr arched an eyebrow, "Raised by a dragon?"

"Aye." Wendy smiled, "She was my mom. She found me lost in the forest one day and took me in." Wendy sighed happily, "Her name was Grandeeney, the Sky Dragon. And she raised me and taught me everything she knew. Including dragon slayer magic and-"

Petyr raised a hand, "Whoa now! Slow down, Wendy." He chuckled lightly, amused by her enthusiasm, "You were raised by a dragon who taught you magic?"

Wendy nodded, "In Fiore, magic is everywhere! But only a few people know how to use it. And even fewer know how to use dragon slaying magic."

"And you are one of those few?"

"Yeah." Wendy nodded, "But unlike the others, I'm not much of a fighter. I'm more of a healer I suppose."

"A healer?"

"Uh huh."

Petyr narrowed his eyes. He then opened a drawer in his desk and slowly pulled out a small dagger he had stored in there.

"So…" He began, "If I were to prick my finger." He rested his index finger on the tip of the blade. Then he pressed down, a small bead of blood dribbling up from the wound then down his finger, "You would be able to heal it?"

Wendy nodded, "Easily."

Petyr smirked. This all seemed to be good to be true. To fantastical. Even for what he saw yesterday when the little girl crashed into his brothel, this seemed completely out of the realm of possibility. Then again, many impossible things could become possible. He was proof enough of that. After all, who in their right mind would have predicted that when he was a boy he would rise to the small council and have the King's ear at all times. No one would have. It was deemed impossible. So who was he to say that Wendy's claims were impossible. The only way to truly know, was to make her prove it.

"Show me." He said softly, holding his bleeding finger out to her. Small droplets of blood plopping down onto the map of Westeros.

Wendy nodded and placed her hands over Petyr's fingers. She then closed her eyes. He could see her starting to strain. Her eyes squeezing tighter and tighter. Her breathing growing rapid and her small muscles flexing beneath her skin. A small bead of sweat ran down the side of her head. Then he saw it. A faint, green glow over his finger. He felt a strange buzzing sensation, as if his finger were falling asleep. Then his eyes widened as he saw the small gash on his finger seal up. Not even a scar was left to tell the tale of how he purposely pricked his finger.

Once it was healed, Wendy gasped and dropped her hands.

"That was… tough." She gulped in air, "That was… too tough." She brought shaking hands closer to her face, "It was like I couldn't access all of it."

Petyr stared stupefied at Wendy, "All of it?"

Wendy nodded weakly, "All of my magic."

 _There is more!_ Petyr leaned back in his seat, resisting the urge grin widely. Indeed, he had found a small surprise. And if would turn into a fantastic gift… for him.

A short laugh left his lips, "That was…" he shook his head, "Incredible, Wendy!" He gripped her shoulders gently, "Absolutely… incredible!" He then bit his lip, "You said that there were more like you?"

Wendy nodded, "Yes! I'm actually part of a whole guild of wizards called Fairy Tail." She then meekly bowed her head, "But, I am the youngest and I'm not exactly strong."

"There are those stronger than yourself?"

Wendy nodded, "Yeah! Like Miss Erza, she's the strongest female in Fairy Tail. I've heard stories of how she can take on a hundred vulcans on her own."

 _This keeps getting better!_ Petyr thought, "Vulcans?"

"Think of really big apes that are a little intelligent. And they can steal the bodies of their victims."

Petyr blinked, "Ah… well… that's rather dark."

"They can be quite stupid though." Wendy laughed, "Which means they aren't very powerful. After all, you define power as being smart, right?"

Petyr's face broke out into a wide grin, "And you continue to learn rapidly."

His grin quickly faded though. This magic Wendy possessed. Some in Westeros will not like it. Some will almost certainly fear it. And that would put her in danger. An asset like Wendy could not be exposed like that. He had to gaurd her. Keep her close, lest she end up on the wrong end of a Lord or Knight's temper. She was a sweet, innocent little girl after all. She did not know the dark underbelly of Westeros. A small part of Petyr hoped that she would never find out about the dangers that surrounded her constantly. But the rest of him knew that time would come. It would be a rude awakening for her. And he was going to be by her side when it happened. Ready to be the gallant hero for her. And that would seal her loyalty to him. All he had to do now, was wait.

"Wendy," he said firmly, "This magic you have, it is not common in Westeros. Far from it. Many will see this as witchcraft."

"Witchcraft!?" Wendy exclaimed, completely horrified.

"Yes, witchcraft. Now, I don't believe you to be a witch. I believe you to just be a young girl lost in the world for now. But many will not see it that way if you are caught using this magic." he gripped her hands, "They will want to hurt you. To harm you in ways you cannot possibly imagine."

"But-" Wendy gulped, "But what do I-"

"I won't let them." Petyr said firmly, "But you must help me in that. You cannot use your magic. Not unless you have no other options for survival. Do you understand me?"

Wendy gulped, "I understand."

"Good. This is a dangerous world, Wendy. I do not want to see you get hurt." He smiled as she nodded again, "Alright… now then, the sun has risen, and I am running late. The Hand to King is still ill. And it appears he only grows worse. Which means my responsibilities grow in number." He rose from his chair, "I'm going to leave you here for today. One of my best girl's will look out for you. Listen to her and obey her. You can wander the entire building if you so wish. Although I do suggest avoiding the main brothel section." Wendy's face reddened significantly, "But whatever you do; Do. Not. Leave. Here. It is not safe for a little girl on the streets. Alright?"

"Alright!" Wendy looked at the large book that Petyr left on the desk, "Perhaps I'll read and become more powerful."

He laughed lightly, "A good use of time! I shall return soon. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable."

The door shut quietly behind him.

….

Wendy bit her lip as she stared hard at the newest set of names she had encountered in the massive tome she had started reading earlier in the morning. The last name was rather easy for her to pronounce. It took several tries for her to sound out properly but she was able to get it. It was the first names that were difficult for her to grasp. Every time she attempted to utter them they sounded just… wrong. As if she was butchering the pronunciation every time.

"T-y-t-o-s," She spelled out with her mouth, "Lan-nis-ster."

"Ah… a fellow bookworm."

Wendy screeched and jumped. Her leg snapping at her in pain as she bumped against the desk then fell backwards in her seat.

"Ouch." She groaned before seeing a short, stubby hand held out to her. She blinked a moment before realizing that it was the same dwarf that had stumbled into her room when she had first awoken in Petyr's business several days ago. Only now, she got a better look at him.

He was easily as short as Master Makarov. Although his head seemed far too large for his stunted body. Dirty blonde hair rested atop his head while green eyes stared at her concerned.

 _What was his name again!?_ She wondered.

"Go on. Take my hand." He said gently, "I don't bite."

Wendy gulped then took the imps hand before he heaved her up with all of his strength. She stumbled a moment, making sure to catch her balance on the desk before her broken leg gave out on her.

"Gods you are heavy!" The dwarf complained, causing Wendy's face to redden, "Then again, I only have the strength of half a man. So, you are perhaps quite light if I was able to lift you up."

Wendy didn't reply. She simply sat down in her chair again and stared at the names beneath the gold lion on a red field. SHe furrowed her brow before sighing.

"Such weird names!" She despaired.

"Weird?" The dwarf hobbled over and glanced at the page she was on, "Ah! House Lannister. Mmm… I suppose they do have curious names, compared to the rest of Westeros. What with bland names floating about such as Ned, Robert, and Jon. Don't get me started on the bastard names. Those are even blander." He quietly trotted over to a small table where a pitcher of wine was sitting along with several glasses. After pouring himself one he glanced over at Wendy, "Do you drink at all?"

"Drink?"

"Yes, do you drink wine, Miss…?"

"Wendy Marvell."

"Wendy…" The dwarf nodded, "Good… that's a rather simple name to remember. Given how much drink I have had today, I might not remember much at all. But I will remember that." He nodded then took a sip, "And judging from your perplexed reaction to my question, I'm going to say it is safe to assume you do not drink wine."

"Um… I guess?" Wendy replied uncertain of what to say.

"A shame really. Wine does so much good for a person." He swirled his glass before taking a greedy gulp and strolling back over to Wendy, "House Lannister…" He breathed before taking another gulp, "Are you studying the houses of Westeros, Lady Wendy?"

"Trying to." Wendy hesitantly replied.

"And why, might I ask, are you doing such a thing."

"I don't know what the houses are."

The dwarf blinked in surprise, "I thought that to be common knowledge! Then again, there are some who grow up rather isolated. I'm sure this may be the first time you've ever been to a city."

He breathed and tipped his glass back, finishing the last of the wine before setting his glass down next to Wendy's book.

"Well… before I go back to whoring myself to sleep, I will say this about House Lannister. First and foremost, they are the most powerful house in Westeros, mostly because they are the richest. The queen is the daughter of the patriarch of House Lannister, Tywin Lannister. The Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Former hand to the King and on and on and on, titles, titles, and more titles." The dwarf poured more wine into his glass then drank the entire amount all at once, "The queen's brother, Jaime Lannister, is a member of the Kingsguard. And last, and most certainly the least, there is Tyrion Lannister, also known as the Imp. Famous for being a connoisseur of tits and wine." The dwarf bowed, "A pleasure to meet you Wendy Marvell."

Wendy stared slack jawed as the dwarf, who she now remembered was indeed Lord Tyrion Lannister, strutted out of the room and back down to the lewd moans Wendy's sensitive ears constantly heard coming from the floor below. She then shook her head.

"He's weird." She muttered before turning the page, "House… Stark. Lords of the North and-"

Wendy heard a small snort coming from the little basket Carla had been sleeping in. The bluenette turned away from the book to see the white cat's eyes blearily open.

"Carla!" Wendy cried, nearly jumping from her chair over to her best friend, only to be hampered by her leg and therefore unable to move anywhere.

"Wendy?" The cat mumbled, using a paw to rub her eye, "Where-where are we?" She blinked again, suddenly fully awake, "And who was that man that spoke so horribly!?"

Wendy gulped, "Uh…"

"Connoisseur of…" The white cat jerked upright and cringed, "Wendy Marvell… what on earth have you gotten us into this time?"

Wendy sheepishly smiled, "Would you believe me if I said it wasn't my fault?"

Carla frowned and crossed her arms.

"It really wasn't!"

….

Tyrion Lannister smiled to himself as the wonderful girl that had been pleasuring him finished and lay herself down beside him, allow his short arm to curl under her neck.

"And once again, Littlefinger's girls impress."

The tan skinned woman giggled, "We always try to, my Lord."

Tyrion laughed as well, "I'm glad you do." He stretched his short legs then smacked his lips, "Do you know of the little girl staying upstairs?"

"Little girl?" The woman replied, "Oh! You mean little Wendy."

"Yes! Little Wendy." Tyrion replied, grasping a goblet of wine from the table near the disheveled bed, "She seems a tad young and innocent to be residing here."

"I agree my lord. Then again, I was not much older when I began to learn the profession."

Tyrion cocked an eyebrow, "Really? Hm… perhaps that is why she is here then. I never took Littlefinger to be a pervert."

"Oh no, my Lord!" The woman replied, shifting on her side to face him, "Lord Baelish has given us strict instructions to make sure she doesn't end up like us."

Tyrion raised his eyebrows, "Has he now? How interesting!? Considering how adorable she is now, I suppose she will be quite the beauty when she comes of age. So why not teach her?"

The woman chuckled then began to place small kisses along Tyrion's face, then down his neck.

"It's not my place to ask." She whispered in a sultry tone before nibbling on his ear and snaking down his body to his nether region.

"OH! Well…" Tyrion chuckled as she began to do her work. But as he fell into another round of being pleased by a gorgeous girl, he couldn't help but find his mind wandering to Littlefinger's possible motivations. The girl was nothing. Simply a naive little thing who barely knew her way around the names of the great houses. So why was the man so intent on protecting her.

"There has to be a reason he is keeping her from prying eyes." Tyrion mumbled before groaning.

"Just stop your worrying and have some fun, my Lord." The woman giggled before straddling him.

"Hmmm…" Tyrion took another long gulp of wine, "I suppose, worries can wait a while longer." He replied before focusing all of his lust filled attention on the whore grinding against his lap.

 _I hope._

 **And chapter! Again, slower chapter, a lot of relationship building between characters. It's interesting to see Littlefinger interacting with Wendy. It's almost like he is treating her as a daughter of sorts. Then again, he does have ulterior motives. But what those are has yet to be revealed. Although, Tyrion seems rather interested to find out what Littlefinger is doing. Should be interesting to see Wendy's arc going forward. Anyways, let me know what you guys think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	9. Erza III

**Hello again everyone! New chapter ready to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

Winterfell was a nice enough place, she supposed. It had a warm hearth, soft beds, when a feast was called, the company was good. But… it was no Fairy Tail.

Erza sighed, her breath misting ever so slightly in the cold morning air. The sun had only just started to peak over the horizon. Bathing the sky in shades of yellow and orange. As if an artist had decided to splash bright paint all over a blue canvass. The cloudless sky allowed Erza a last look at the fading stars above her.

It had been two weeks now since she had agreed to join Lord Stark's household. In that two week span, when she wasn't watching out for the Stark children, she had spent her time with Maester Luwin. She knew the old man would not know anything about Fiore. But that was not her goal. Erza's goal was to learn as much about this world as possible. That way, if she ever chose to strike out on her own, she'd make it, even without her magic. She also huddled close to the Maester's tower at almost all times. Hoping that a Raven brought news of a peculiar act or stranger in the land. With how most Fairy Tail wizards were, she knew that at some point, Natsu, Gray, or even Cana would do something to cause a massive uproar. And she wanted to be around when the news spread to Winterfell.

But now, Maester Luwin was asleep. As was most of the castle. The only exception was the young, black haired man in the castle training yard. A dark fur cloak rested on his shoulders as he strode over to a rack of iron swords. She watched as he rubbed his hands together, attempting to soften the frozen skin before he gripped one of the leather pommels. As he did so, he shifted his shoulders, the cloak slipping to the ground, allowing his leather armor covered body to move more freely.

He slowly made his way over to a straw dummy covered in burlap. He twirled the sword in his hand for a moment before raising the blade over his head. With a cry he brought it thundering down onto the burlap sack dummy. The blade bit into its target then bounced back, allowing the trainee to experience the feel of a swords bouncing off of armor. But that was all it was, the feel. It wasn't the actual thing.

As the young man hacked furiously against his target, Erza watched with increased interest. He was good. Very good. Each strike powerful and ferocious. Enough to easily cut through some of the strongest armor out there, despite his somewhat slight build. But… the swordsman in her couldn't help but see the flaws. The stance seemed so flat footed. The strikes and slashed far too heavy handed and clunky. She couldn't help but shake her head.

 _No._ Erza thought with disdain, _This will not do._

And she marched down the stone steps to the yard.

….

Jon Snow snarled as he reared back with his blade and slashed into the dummy. His arms buzzed as he felt the edge of the blade bite into the dummy and actually manage to tap the wooden stake buried deep inside. He smirked to himself. With how powerful his hacks were becoming, maybe he'd be able to cut a wildling in two someday.

That smirk faded at the thought. Cutting a wildling in two. Hard to believe that may be his future. A few days after the meeting with his lord father over the fate of Miss Scarlet, he and his father met in private, as intended originally. And they discussed his future. His desire to take the black. To travel to Castle Black with Uncle Benjen once the First Ranger of the Night's Watch returned for his occasional visit to Winterfell.

He had discussed it at great length with his Uncle. The man had been adamant at first that Jon would not go. He didn't know what he giving up, that was what his Uncle always said. But would he be giving up really!? And that thought renewed Jon's tenacity. He scowled at the dummy and reared back once again, readying to swing his sword sideways in a hideous arc that would no doubt severe a man's head if it were an actual opponent.

Just as he started bringing his sword forward, he felt it connect with steel. The impact made his arms shudder and his shoulders pop. His hands stung and his finger loosened, causing the iron in his hands to clatter to the ground. Hell, he nearly fell over from the suddenness of the impact. After stumbling back several paces he could hear someone clicking their tongue in disapproval.

"As I thought." He heard a woman's voice say, "All brute strength, and nothing else."

Jon blinked and stared wide eyed at the red haired woman that stood to his right, her own blade drawn, fur cloak cast to the side.

"I'm all brute strength!?" Jon exclaimed nodding at Erza, "Then what in the seven hells did you do to me!?"

Erza raised her blade to eye level then tilted it ever so slightly, "Caught you just right."

Jon's eyes widened, "That's it!?"

Erza smirked, "What? Did you not expect a woman to be able to knock you over so easily?"

Jon glanced over at the iron sword lying on the cold ground. He then shook his head, leaned down to pick up his sword, only to feel steel immediately touch his neck.

"Ah ah ah." Erza reprimanded, causing Jon to freeze, "You aren't ready for that yet."

Jon scoffed, "Not ready? Sorry Miss Erza, but I've been training with that since I could stand. You-"

"Have been training with this," She drew her sword back and gently tapped Jon's shoulder with the flat of the blade, "Since you were still in diapers." Jon cocked his eyebrow, "Oh right.." Erza tapped her forehead, "No such thing as diapers here. Swaddling clothes? Is that right?"

"I think so?" Jon replied, unsure himself.

Erza shrugged, "Doesn't matter." She placed the flat of her blade over her own shoulder, "Either way, you don't know what the hell you are doing."

Jon again shook his head in disbelief, "Ser Rodrik has been training me since I was a boy. And he has been the Master at Arms here in Winterfell for decades. Since my Father's father." Erza cocked an eyebrow, "And-"

"And that makes him an expert in how to actually win a fight?" Erza replied, "How many battles has he been in?"

Jon shrugged, "I don't know. I think he fought for my father in Robert's Rebellion."

"You think or you know?" Erza replied.

Jon didn't reply.

"You want to know what my first battle was?" Erza stated as she strode over to the center of the yard, waving for Jon to follow her. As she walked, she sheathed her own blade, "Just after I joined Fairy Tail, I took a job request where I had to escort some rich guy to a nearby town. We got waylaid by bandits. I fought of five cut throats that day. And I was no more than ten years old at the time." Jon's eyes widened, "Ever since I've done nothing but fight, brawl, and protect. So… I may have a little to contribute in terms of your own technique."

Jon bobbed his head, "Alright. Maybe you do. But don't we need swords for you to teach me?"

Erza shook her head, "If you need a sword to fight, then you know nothing."

Jon frowned.

"Fighting isn't all swords and armor, Jon Snow." Erza continued before motioning to him, "Go on now, get in your normal stance."

Jon looked at her perplexed. She nodded at him and he sighed before shifting his fight so that he was square to her. Just as he did this, he looked up and saw a plate covered fist coming right at his nose. Then he saw stars.

He landed heavily on the ground, world spinning and eyes watering as he reeled from a punch to the nose. After shaking the fog from his head he jumped back to his feet, furious.

"What the hell was that for!?"

"I told you to get in your stance, didn't I?" Erza replied.

"Well, yes. But you didn't say you'd hit me!?" Jon retorted.

"Will an enemy tell you when he's going to try and take your head off."

Silence in return. Erza nodded.

"Exactly. Besides, you made it easy for me." Jon frowned, "Standing square like that is a bad plan when you don't have a broadsword in hand. It makes it very easy for me…" Erza slid forward like a viper, landing a hook to Jon's right abdomen before uppercutting him and once again sending him falling back to the ground, "To find a spot to punch."

Jon felt hot blood dribbling from his nose. He scrunched his face as it continued to sting and bleed. Some would stay on the ground and cut their loses. But Jon was not someone who quit easily. He grit his teeth and jumped back up to his feet, shaking the fog away once again.

"Now look at me." Erza motioned to how she was standing. Sideways, her lead arm held up to guard her face while her right arm was cocked and ready to deliver a strike, "Sideways." She nodded as Jon attempted to imitate, "Smaller target." She jabbed him in the shoulder. And Jon quickly realized, it didn't hurt as badly as getting pounded in the face, "Harder to hit the head."

Jon nodded, "I get it."

"Good."

"Can we move back to swords now?"

Erza laughed at him, "Jon, if you can't fight with your fists then how can you expect to be able to fight with a sword. Now c'mon, hands up, like myself." Jon exhaled and raised his hands, "Good." Erza nodded before she started to circle him, bounding around him like a deer through the woods. Meanwhile, he could only spin in a circle, doing his best to keep her in front of him.

"Get on your toes, Jon." Erza scolded, "Flat footed is bad."

"It means I'm solid." Jon replied.

Suddenly Erza sped around him, so quick that he could barely see the outline of her red hair sweeping around him. His eyes widened in surprise as he felt her arm wrap around his neck while her other hand held his head still.

"It means you're easy to maneuver around." Erza replied, "You think big, clunky armor will save you if someone get around and slips a knife into one the cracks." She shook her head and let him go, "Better to be nimble and quick, than a sitting target."

Jon nodded then frowned, "But, you wear armor." He stated.

"Aye I do. I'd be stupid not to." Erza replied as she started to circle him again.

"Doesn't that make you a sitting duck."

Jon felt his legs get swept out from under him, causing him to land hard on his back with a loud crack. He let out a long groan and squeezed his eyes hut before coughing. Then he saw Erza hovering over him.

"Do I look like a sitting duck?" Erza asked.

"I guess not." Jon replied breathlessly.

She simply nodded and held out a hand to him, which he gladly took. He was amazed by her strength. With one easy yank, she pulled him up to his feet. Him, a full grown man. Jon had half a mind to think she was actually a woman from Bear Island.

"Ready?" Erza asked as he wiped some dirt from his eyes.

"Yes." Jon nodded, resuming the new stance Erza taught him. Only this time, he bounced on his toes like she did.

And they circled each other. Erza did not make a move towards him, and Jon did not make a move towards her. They just hopped in circles. Toes tapping lightly in the earth. And while Jon felt his muscles starting to quickly tire out, Erza looked like she was hardly breaking a sweat. And unlike him, she was wearing full steel armor. Minus the greaves of course. For some reason, she still wore that peculiar blue skirt.

"You aren't going to strike me?" Jon asked.

"Why do that when I can just tire you out?" Erza replied with a grin.

Jon's brow rose in surprise. Then he let out a small chuckle as he realized what she was doing. She was daring him to attack. Waiting for him to strike first. Measuring how good he currently was before continuing. He took a deep breath. Calf muscles burning as he continued to hop along with Erza, then he lunged forward, fist flying at her head.

In the blink of an eye, the redhead weaved to the side, caught him by the elbow, then once again, popped him in the nose with a swift fist. Only this time, he didn't fly to the floor. This time he simply reeled backwards, eyes watering once again.

"By the old gods, you're going to break my nose at this rate!" he exclaimed.

"If that's what it takes for you to learn, then that's what it takes." Erza replied, "I swear, you are starting to make me think you are as just as thick headed as a friend of mine."

Jon smirked, "Thick headed? What do you think I'm stupid?"

"How many times have I hit you in the nose?"

Jon gulped, "Three times."

"Fool you once, shame on me. Fool you twice, shame on you." Erza and Jon resumed their dance, "Fool you three times." Erza jabbed and Jon weaved out of the way and threw a swift hook at Erza's side. His fist rang as he pelted her armor, and he winced in pain. But nevertheless, Erza smirked, "Not stupid after all."

….

Eddard couldn't help but smile as he watched the two work in the yard. Today he had decided to rise early, and he was glad he did. He had no idea of Jon's morning routine. Of him strutting out to the yard like he was one of the greatest warriors to ever grace Westeros then proceed to hack at a straw dummy like he was the North's version of The Mountain that Rides. Today was the first morning he had actually caught him in the act, although he had heard rumors of Jon rising early. But no one ever explained the reason to him. Now he knew though.

And now, he was able to see the full extent of the person he hired to guard his children. And he was impressed. Without any sword or advantage at all, Erza Scarlet was beating his bastard son like he was just a small, green boy with no training at all. The display was impressive actually. The way she moved, twisted, ducked and weaved around Jon. It was like watching a dancer at one of those royal balls he never ever went to. Mostly because he never wanted to go to one.

But she wasn't planting Jon on his ass just because she could. The entire time, Ned could see her speaking to him. She would stop her dance and grip his elbows, hands, and torso. Shift his feet, thwack his knees, correct every little miscue she saw. Sometimes it made Ned cringe a little. Erza appeared to be a somewhat harsh teacher. Her form of punishment being a swift punch in the nose, which eventually enraged Jon to the point where he blindly charged at her, a completely uncharacteristic thing for him to do. It certainly surprised Ned when he saw that.

But something else was happening to Jon as he took a thorough beating and teaching from Erza. Ned could just barely see it. The corner of his mouth tilted upright ever so slight. A flash of teeth whenever he actually managed to get even a glancing blow on the swift red head.

He was smiling.

And that made Ned smile.

As he continued to observe the instruction taking place, he heard heavy footsteps marching towards him.

"Good morning, milord."

Ned glanced over to see his Master at Arms marching towards him. Rodrik Cassel was by no means a young man. He was already white haired both in head and beard. In fact, his long beard was knotted beneath the chin, making appear even more ancient the youths of the castle. He always said it showed that he had far more wisdom than the whelps that would join his castle guard. Ned would laugh and say that it made him look ridiculous. Yes, Ser Rodrik was one of the few men Lord Eddard Stark, the Silent Wolf, could actually be fully relaxed around.

"Good Morning, Ser Rodrik." Ned replied with a nod.

Rodrik took a deep breath of the cool morning air before taking his first daily look at the yard. When he saw the absolute thrashing Jon Snow was receiving, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

"By the Old, New, and slightly used Gods!" He exclaimed, causing Ned to arch an eyebrow, "She's making a mockery of my star pupil!"

Ned couldn't help but chuckled, "Indeed she is." He nodded.

Rodrik placed his hands on the railing of the wall that overlooked the yard and leaned forward, brow furrowed as he continued to watch the battle below.

"She moves like a fucking water dancer!" He exclaimed quietly.

Ned glanced at him puzzled, "A water dancer?"

"Aye, a water dancer." Ser Rodrik nodded, "A Braavosi swordsman." he explained causing Ned to nod in realization, "So much flighty movements and jumping around. Why do all of that when one could cleave of a great sword and your enemy is dead."

Just as he said that, Erza kicked her leg out and caught Jon by the ankles, sending him sprawling into the dirt yet again. Ned glanced at the stunned Rodrik.

"Can't cleave when you're on the ground, eh?" He nudged Rodrik.

"Aye, that'd be true too." The old man admitted.

The two continued to watch in silence.

"Seven hells the girl doesn't get tired does she!?" Rodrick muttered, "Jon looks like he can barely stand. And she's as fresh as any soldier could ever be."

Ned nodded, "Indeed, her stamina is impressive."

At that comment, Rodrik glanced at Ned with raised eyebrows. It took the Lord of Winterfell a moment before he chuckled and shook his head.

"Damn you! You old fool." He commented, still laughing.

"It's by your own admission!" Rodrik laughed with him, "Ah… how I yearn for the days when I was young."

Ned nodded, "You and I both."

Rapid footsteps came marching to Ned's left. Both men glanced to see a man clad in Stark armor and colors marching towards them.

"Lord Stark." The man said stiffly.

"Yes soldier?" Ned replied.

"Brynden Snow reporting from Tumbledown Tower."

Ned raised his brow, "Continue."

"Me and my company were returning from patrol when we stumbled across two Night's Watch deserters." Ned's cheerful morning mood quickly disappeared, as did Ser Rodrik's, "We bound them and brought them with us here to receive the King's judgement."

Ned nodded grimly, "Well done." He sighed, "Do you know the cause of their desertion?"

The soldier shook his head, "No milord. One refuses to even speak, the other keeps babbling on about White Walkers and the undead." Both Ned and Rodrik frowned, "Frankly milord, I believe the latter to be a raving madman. Cold's gone to his head I'm afraid."

"Quite possible." Ser Rodrik nodded with disdain, "It wouldn't be the first time that had occurred."

Ned nodded, "Still, for a deserter to get this far south. I doubt a madman would be capable of doing that." His frown deepened, "I want to know more about this before I do anything. A day or two in a cell may help clear their heads. I'll speak them personally soon."

"Of course milord." The soldier nodded, "I'll take them to the dungeons."

"And then take yourself to the barracks for some rest. You've earned it."

The soldier grinned, "Thank you milord."

As he strode away, Rodrik cheered. Ned looked down to see Jon get around Erza before quickly kicking her in the ass, sending the girl sprawling to her knees. But while Rodrik cheered, the Lord of Winterfell waited quietly. He'd already watched this long enough to know that Jon was about to face swift retribution.

And swift it was. Erza came flying up from the ground, eyes sparking with rage. In a blinding move of sheer grace and power, she whipped her leg up from the ground crashed it against Jon's temple. The boy didn't even know what hit him as he fell to the ground, eyes fluttering, and a small, victorious smile still on his face.

Rodrik stopped cheering. Ned glanced at him.

"I put my bet on the Water Dancer." He said before clapping a flabbergasted Rodrik on the shoulder and making his way back into the castle.

 **And chapter! That was sooo much fun to write! I just love writing these little interactions before the story really starts to take off. And it is going to! After all, two deserters from the Night's watch have just arrived in Winterfell.**

 **Originally, I was gonna put up a Natsu chapter. However, I have realized something. His and Dany's arc is really difficult to write at this stage. Like, really difficult to make super interesting. Dany doesn't really start to get interesting until around the time she starts to overshadow her brother. Even then, it takes a little bit for her story to really kick into gear. So writing a pre GOT Dany and Natsu arc is proving to be pretty challenging. But I am trying.**

 **Anyways, what did you guys think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	10. Natsu II

**Hello everyone! I have a new chapter ready to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Natsu

Dany never returned that evening. And she wasn't the one waiting beside him when he awoke the next morning. As Natsu's heavy eyes slowly cracked open, he could see a woman in a crimson dress sitting in a padded chair beside the soft bed he was lying in. Despite his body starting to awaken, his mind was still fast asleep. He blearily blinked several times before opening his mouth into a gaping yawn.

He blinked again, the fog slowly lifting from his eyes. He could see the newcomer more clearly. The woman was as pale as milk. Dark eyes stared at him. Hair as red as blood fell in thick locks from her head down over her shoulders and over her chest. As she stared at Natsu, her hands occasionally drifted up to a thin necklace with a ruby pendant attached to it.

Natsu's hands went up to his eyes, briefly rubbing them before he yawned again.

"Sleep well?" The woman finally spoke up, her voice carrying both a gentle tone, like that of a concerned parent, and a strength that could make even the mightiest of men give their undivided attention to her.

Natsu's head jerked upright, "Eh?" He looked at the woman and gave her a sheepish smile, "Sorry," He scratched the back of his neck, "I was still waking up there."

The woman's full lips curled into a small smirk, "I can see that. That's why I asked if you slept well?"

Natsu glanced down at the bed, then at his legs that were covered by thin sheets of silk. He shrugged.

"I suppose." His hand patted the mattress, "It's one of the softest beds I've ever slept in."

"I would hope so." The woman in red replied, "Illyrio Mopatis is known for his indulgences into luxury. I am certain he would spare no expense on the guest rooms of this palace. But then again, I could not be so sure. I have never stayed here overnight."

Natsu smiled, "Well… other than that one guy with the really white hair being at total jerk," The woman nodded, "I'd say this place is very nice."

"I assume you mean Viserys Targaryen?"

"Yeah! Him! Vinny Tagman!" Natsu replied, oblivious to the fact that he mispronounced the man's name. Natsu scowled then pounded a fist into his open palm, "Oh when I see him again, I'll give him what for!" He swung his fist into the air.

The red woman chuckled, "As much as I would like to see that myself, I would have to advise against such a course of action." She leaned forward, "After all, it appears your magic is not working properly, correct?"

"Well yeah but-" Natsu cut himself off. The gears turned in his mind and his dark eyes narrowed at the woman, "How did you know that?"

The woman smirked, "I know many things, Natsu Dragneel. Son of Igneel the Fire Dragon." She smirked again, as if she knew so much more that she did not want to divulge to the the now wary Dragon Slayer, "I know that you are a man of great power. A man who commands fire. Summons it to his hands whenever he desires to." Natsu's jaw tightened, "I also know that you and your companion, Lucy Heartfilia, are not of this world."

Natsu's eyes widened, "Not of this world?" He jerked upright from his pillows, "What do ya mean not of this world!?"

The red woman raised an eyebrow, "You have not figured it out yet? Lucy was able to deduce the situation in a matter of minutes when I spoke to her." She paused, "Then again…" She folded her hands, "She did mention that you were… how did she put it… a blockhead?"

Natsu gripped the sheets tightly, "I'm not a blockhead." he muttered. He sniffed and caught a familiar scent on the other side of the door, "YA HEAR ME LUCY!" A loud, startled cry came from beyond the door, "MY HEAD IS NICE A ROUND! JUST LIKE YOURS!"  
The red woman's eyes widened.

She had come to see this boy at Illyrio's request. Taking a rather costly detour from her intended destination in order to help the Magister investigate a pair of curiosities that appeared in his home, wrapped in fire. He told her of how the boy had a defiance in him. She was expecting Natsu Dragneel to be rather unhelpful as she attempted to draw information out of him. WHat she was not expecting, and what she was not informed of until she spoke to his blonde companion, was that Natsu Dragneel's defiance could be attributed to one thing.

Ignorance.

That or stupidity. The red woman had yet to decide which it could be. Although, judging from how he butchered the Beggar King's name and failed to understand the figure of speech his friend used to describe him, the red woman had a feeling he was most likely the latter.

And that was disappointing. Before coming to Pentos, she had decided to gaze into the flames of her campfire. The flames held many secrets. They spoke in whispers. Crackles were sentences. Bursts of embers images. And when the flames danced in the night, they provided clues to the answers she needed or desired. And when she gazed into the flames the previous night, she had much revealed to her by the Lord of Light.

Beyond the ancient seat of Dragonstone, she saw two other images in the flames. That of a blonde woman with golden keys and a pink haired boy who commanded the power of fire itself.

When she saw this in the flames, she was confused. Such powers had never existed in the world before. For all of her knowledge, she did not know of golden keys like the ones possessed by the blonde she saw. And the only people who could wield the Lord's fire were the Red Preists of Asshai, an order to which she belonged. At least, that is what she had assumed.

Then she received the message from Magister Mopatis. Immediately, she extinguished her flames and rode for Pentos, arriving by mid morning while Natsu Dragneel slept.

Her original discussion was with Lucy Heartifilia. What the girl revealed was rather… informative. Though rather incredible. But the red woman had no reason to doubt the girl. After all, the Lord of Light revealed her in the flames. She had importance in the lord's plans. Great importance.

As did this boy, although the woman could not figure out why. He appeared to be strong. Lean, corded muscles rippled along his exposed skin. Yet, he did not have the appearance of a warrior. In fact, the boy was rather thin.

And that's all he appeared to be. A naive boy. Yet, the Lord of Light revelaed him as well. The red woman furrowed her brow. Perhaps there was more here than meets the eye?

"Natsu," The red woman leaned forward, "Before I continue with this conversation, I want to know if you can really do the feats Illyrio claims you can."

"Well of course I can!" Natsu snapped back, folding his arms over his chest, "I just can't without my magic! I can tell it's not really working right!" He still could not feel that familiar, comforting warmth that his body had grown used to. That had been with him for almost his entire life.

The woman nodded and rose from her seat. She then moved towards the fireplace. Her body practically gliding over the smooth tile floors. Inside of the fireplace were several fresh logs. She stooped beside it, her head gazing down at the dark pit. She then looked over at Natsu.

"Come here Dragonslayer." She waved at him.

He felt compelled to move. Gestured forward by an invisible hand. It nudged him from the bed's embrace and out onto the lukewarm tile. His bare feet padding along until he stood alongside the red woman.

"Put your hand out." She commanded.

Natsu grit his teeth, arm twitching in resistance. Something wasn't right about all of this. He knew he wasn't the smartest person in Fairy Tail. But he was someone who followed his instincts. It was how he was raised. Instincts were everything to him. He relied on them just as much as an actual dragon did. And his instincts screamed at him to keep his hand by his side. Do not reach out, do not listen to the woman in red.

"Natsu. " The woman purred his name, her voice somehow shifting in tone from commanding, to seductive. It slipped into his ears and into his mind. The sweetness made his entire body relax.

And his hand moved out.

The ruby on the woman's necklace began to shimmer. Then Natsu felt power surge through his body. A violent burst of white hot fire burst from his open palm into the stone fireplace. And as the flames consumed the wood, then the stone itself, the red woman's lips curled into a smile.

"You may put your hand down now." She said softly.

Natsu gasped as he lowered his hand. All of the power he felt vanished from his body. Siphoned away from him. But unlike when he punched the Unsullied guard, he did not feel drained. Far from it, he actually felt healthier. His arms felt stronger, legs more sturdy, senses sharper.

He felt like his old self again.

"What did you-"

"Tell me Natsu," The red woman continued, "Did you gaze into the flames?"

Natsu frowned, "Whaddya mean by that?"

She nodded, "I thought not. Fire speaks to those who are able to hear its voice. You are more than capable of this. After all," She gestured to the fireplace. The stone that once adorned it now molten slag slowly cooling in the summer air, "You are fire."

Natsu gulped and looked at his open palms, "I felt my magic." he looked stunned at the red woman, "I felt it. It was…" He shook his head in disbelief, "It was so powerful I couldn't-"

"Believe it." The red woman finished for him, "Most choose to disregard what they do not wish to understand. Your power is tremendous, Natsu Dragneel. But… you are not in Earthland anymore. That was not your fire that came pouring out of your hand. At least, not entirely." The woman moved back towards her chair, "The Lord of Light revealed you to me in the flames, and now he has blessed you with a momentary wisp of his own fire." Natsu's eyes widened, "And it did not consume you. It did not… cleanse you. It followed your command." She nodded at the fireplace, "It melted stone."

Natsu glanced back and forth from the fireplace to the red woman, "I don't get it."

"The Lord of Light has plans for you Natsu Dragneel." The woman replied cryptically, "What they are, he has not shown… yet. Although, he did show one thing to me now, in your own flames." She moved behind the chair, "You have a darkness in you Natsu Dragneel," Natsu remained silent, "A darkness that the Lord of Light does not find pleasing. And yet, he granted you his power for a brief moment. What this means, I do not know. But his plans for you no doubt involve you standing in opposition to the Long Night, which is now almost upon us. And I hope you will be prepared for when it comes."

"Prepared?"

"Yes, prepared." The red woman folded her hands, "I saw you standing alongside Daenerys Targaryen. The Lord of Light intends for you to stay by her side for now. I cannot see the end of that road, only the beginning. And it all starts here." She looked at the door, "As for your friend Lucy, her road takes her down a different path. One that starts in Westeros."

"West-a-what?"

"I'm taking her with me, Natsu Dragneel."

Natsu's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Like hell you are!" He growled, taking a powerful step towards the red woman, "I may not exactly know what is going on right now. But my gut tells me that the last person Lucy should be around is you."

"And the last place Lucy should stay is here, near Viserys Targaryen." The red woman countered, "For now, you and her are protected by his sister, Daenerys Stormborn. But Daenerys holds very little sway over her brother. And he tends to like violence. Without your magic, how will you protect her?"

Natsu was about to reply when the red woman cut him off.

"Your fists will not help you against men with steel." She warned, "You are not all powerful here as you were in Earthland. And until your magic returns, you and Lucy will be in constant danger. With me, she will at least have some form of protection. Meanwhile, Viserys will be less likely to try and harm you. After all, a man is much more difficult prey for a weak dragon than a woman."

Natsu felt his fist tightening by his sides.

"You know I am right, Natsu Dragneel. You are just letting your instincts get in the way of your judgement." Her words continued to slips through his mind, knifing through every argument he had. And to his surprise, she was making sense, "You cannot allow carnal feelings for Lucy Heartfilia get in the way. Lucy has a great part in all of this. And I intend to keep her safe for as long as I can. In order to do that, she needs to stay by my side. Viserys Targaryen would never come near here as long as I am by her. Do you understand?"

Natsu grit his teeth. Why was this woman starting to make so much sense? Why was he starting to agree with her even though he didn't want to!? His mind felt like mush, like he couldn't think properly.

"You…" Natsu took a deep breath, trying to refocus himself. The haze was so strong, he felt like he was riding a train back home, "You are sure he will try to kill her?"

The red woman nodded, her hand briefly brushing her necklace.

Natsu gulped and bowed his head. The war in his mind was over. His instincts could go to hell for all he cared. Lucy's safety was his priority. She was his friend and guild mate. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

"You will keep her safe?"

"I swear I will." The woman replied.

Natsu nodded, "Fine." He reluctantly relented, "But… what is your name?"

"My name?" The red woman paused at the door, her hand around the knob, "Why would you want to know that?"

"So I can find you if you break your promise." Natsu growled, his voice filled with dangerous intent that made her shudder for a moment.

"Very well," She replied, "Melisandre. That is my name."

….

"YOU INVITED A RED PRIESTESS TO EXAMINE THEM!" Viserys roared at Illyrio as he paced to and fro in the solar. His feet moving rapidly as he nervously rubbed his chin while swirling a full glass of wine in the other hand.

Illyrio calmly sat in a plush chair, hands gently resting on the armrests, legs crossed. Beside him, his Unsullied guards stood at the ready. For even though their master was relaxed, they knew that the Targaryen king was not. And any threat of violence towards their master would be met with a swift and immediate death.

"I figured that someone from their order would be the best choice to examine someone of a magical disposition."

Viserys flung his glass of wine across the room. The silver goblet clattered loudly against the floor as she turned towards Illyrio and stormed towards him, "You mean a cult a lunatics who worship fire! A religion for savages and idiots! And now, they know I am here! They hold no loyalty and don't care who sits on the Iron Throne! What is to stop this Red Priestess from telling the Usurper what my intentions are!?"

The two Unsullied guards moved to block Viserys' path, but their master raised a hand, causing both to remain where they were.

"She will not do such a thing, Viserys." Illyrio replied calmly.

"And how do you know that!?" Viserys demanded.

"Because that is not what the Lord of Light requires of me, Beggar King."

Viserys stiffened. The hairs on his neck rose on end as he felt the presence of Melisandre slowly glide into the room. His rigid body twisted to face her.

"What. Did. You. Call. Me?" He snarled lowly.

"Viserys…" Illyrio warned.

"May I remind you, your grace." Melisandre continued, "That the Seven are viewed as a cult of lunatics and a religion for savages here, in Essos." Viserys clenched his jaw, "There are two sides to every story. Sometimes more. And each side views the other with the same amount of disdain and ignorance. Focus your energy elsewhere, Viserys Targaryen. Your quest to reclaim your father's iron chair is none of my concern."

Before the young king could reply, Melisandre turned to Illyrio.

"I leave tonight with Lucy Heartfilia."

"Where will you be going?" He asked.

Melisandre glanced at Viserys and smirked, "Westeros." The Targaryen king paled, "The Lord of Light is not well known there. I intend to do one of my sworn duties to him." She looked at the visibly shaken Beggar King, "That being to preach, your grace. Not tell Robert Baratheon to kill you immediately."

Viserys replied with a shaky nod.

"And what of Natsu Dragneel?" Illyrio asked.

"The boy is… intriguing. The Lord of Light is using him for a grand purpose." Melisandre replied.

"And his claims of magic?"

"Oh… they are entirely true." Melisandre replied, as if such a detail were merely an afterthought compared to what the flames told her.

"They are!?" Viserys gasped in disbelief.

"Indeed they are. I'd be careful around him. If he indeed wields fire then he will have the unpredictability to match it. Fire can heal or burn, depending on how it is handled." She looked at Viserys, "I suggest handling him with great care." She folded her hands into the sleeves of her dress, "Now then… I need to gather supplies for the rest of my journey. As well as charter passage across the Narrow Sea. I will return for Lucy tonight."

"So you will be joining us for dinner?" Illyrio asked as she began to walk away, "We do have a very important guest coming so-"

"I am aware of the imminent arrival of Khal Drogo." She glanced back at the two men, "He is going to be late."

Without another word, she left.

 **And chapter! I gotta say, this storyline is proving really challenging. I have to do a lot more planning for it before I pen another Natsu chapter. So we may have a bit of wait before we return to him again. However… Levy, Lucy, Erza, and Wendy… oh boy do I have their stories ready to go! And it is going to be so much fun to write! As for Cana and Mira, they will be coming into the picture soon. Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	11. Levy II

**Alright! Another chapter ready to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Levy

She grit her teeth and winced as her knuckles slipped from the thin rag and scrapped along the wooden deck boards she knelt on. The sting of soap and dirty water made her hiss in pain before she quickly silenced herself. The others cleaning the deck, the ones without tongues, were glaring at her. Envy and hatred filling their sunken eyes.

Levy was the lucky one aboard the "Silence". She had been claimed by her captain, and thus no one dared touch her. If that wasn't the case… she shuddered to think about it. These were not the pirates she read about in novels. These were brigands. Raiders who did not hesitate to kill when they desired. And the only one who kept this unruly band together was the man standing near the wheel, chest puffed out, smiling eye staring out at the ocean that sprayed over the decks with each wave.

The night was almost upon them. And once that sun fell below the horizon, Levy would be required to go to the captain's quarters. The first night this occurred, she was terrified. The captain of the "Silence" appeared to be the kind of man that took what he wanted and gave nothing in return. Or as she heard him describe it to several of his buccaneers, the Iron Price. And so, when she went to his quarters that first night aboard the Silence, bound at the feet and wrists, she half expected the worst to occur to her.

But to her enormous surprise, the captain hardly spoke to her. Instead, he simply set a plate down in front of her, ordered her to eat, then had her wait on him. She was to clean his dishes, wash his feet once she had removed the water clogged leather boots. Then she was to shine the boots until he could wear them once again. After that, it was more menial chores. He expected every little piece of furniture in his possession to be near spotless. Not a barnacle, drop of water, or grain of dust was to be on the fine wooden tables. Not a single snag in the stitching of the velvet chair he kept near the cabin window. And not a single crease out of place on his mattress before he stripped himself and retired for the night. Once that all happened, she was free to go where all the other prisoners resided. The belly of the ship. The brig.

A bell rattled near her ear. The signal for the mute men of the Silence that the sun was gone. The night crew would now take over. Levy sighed and flung the rag into a chipped wooden bucket filled with muck. Her hands ached, her knees creaked as she slowly got to her feet. No doubt, if she could see herself in a mirror, she would be horrified by what she saw.

Despite the strange treatment she had been given, it was not a kind treatment. The only meal she ever had was when she entered Euron Greyjoy's cabin. She did not eat beyond that. She wasn't allowed to. And she could feel her form wasting away. Her body felt lighter, yet much heavier at the same time. Like she no longer had the muscle to carry her own petite form. Exhaustion was a constant feeling. It stayed with her like an annoying companion. Whispering to her that she should just lie down on the deck and rest. But if she did that, they would pounce. And Greyjoy would let them. For even though he treated her with callous indifference, he would not hesitate to punish her for slipping in her duties aboard his ship. Just as he did with the rest of his crew. Already, she had witnessed his slit the throat of a man who had delivered the wrong meal to him. If Euron Greyjoy was that cruel over food, then he would be equally as cruel if not more so over neglected work.

And so, Levy McGarden, captive of the Silence, labored on. Her hands already bore callouses from days of scrubbing the decks. Her bare shoulders were now bathed in a sickening red tinge from the sun beating down her back all day. Her knees were scraped and she always entered the captain's cabin with a small trickle of blood running down one of her shins. Almost always caused by a hideous sliver lodged in her leg.

This was life for her. For the past week… maybe even longer, if only she was allowed to know how many days had gone by. She had lost count after five, no longer desiring to care about it. The number of days aboard this horrid vessel didn't matter to her. Only survival and escape mattered. And eventually, when the Silence made port, she would slip away from Euron Greyjoy. And hopefully, he wouldn't pursue her. Hopefully, she had made herself far to insignificant for him to care if she disappeared at a port. Once at some port, she could find a map, or an inn and learn where in the world she was. From there, it wouldn't take her long to formulate a plan for returning home. No doubt the others in the guild were worried about her.

She watched with wary, weary eyes as Euron Greyjoy descended the wooden steps that led from the wheel down to the door that led into his cabin. He nodded to his crew as he walked. And they nodded back. The mute's way of giving their captain their respect before he disappeared for the night. Once Euron Greyjoy threw the door open to his cabin, Levy moved towards the door and quickly slipped in behind him, just before the door clicked shut.

"Ah." Euron sighed as he rolled his shoulders. His tanned hands reached for the buckles on his long, black coat, easily undoing them before he shrugged his shoulders. Levy was instantly there to grab the coat as he removed his arms from the sleeves and moved over to his velvet chair. The lone piece of luxury that he kept in his small cabin.

As Levy hung his coat up, the Captain of the Silence kicked his booted feet up on a wooden stool.

"Hurry up woman." he grunted, "My feet ache."

Levy didn't reply. She simply nodded and knelt to removed his boots. She had learned days ago that to speak to Euron without him wanting you to was a quick way to earn a severe punishment. To speak out of line was to take a lashing, or more. To continue to do so could mean that she'd end up like the rest of the crew… a mute. Her tongue ripped out with calipers as Euron chuckled. She'd already seen it happen to one of the other prisoners in the brig. A no name sailor who had the unfortunate fate of not being a wealthy merchant or person of note for the Captain to effectively ransom. How Levy had not suffered the same fate yet, she did not know. She dared not ask. Perhaps he simply forgot. And she dared not remind him.

She struggled to rip the boots from his feet, as she always did. Those hunks of leather were heavy. And the clung to the captain's feet. Refusing to release until Levy nearly exhausted herself from the strain. When they finally did let loose, she'd fall backwards every time. And every time, Euron would snort out a small, amused laugh before turning to a bottle of wine and sipping on it.

Once his boots were removed, Levy moved to start polishing them. She retreated to the corner of the cabin, where a small wooden stool and a rag stained with black polished waited for her. She sat down, ready to loose herself in routine once again. Then she froze as Euron spoke.

"Alright… I've seen you do this enough." He commented, leaning forward in his chair, "You are a peculiar lordling's daughter."

 _Lordling's daughter?_ Levy's eyes widened in realization. They really thought she was the daughter of someone important. No wonder she wasn't being treated as harshly as she believed they would have. They wanted to ransom her. She gulped. What would happen once they discovered that she was even more of a nobody than that now mute sailor in the brig?

"I have never, in my entire life, and in all of my travels, seen some rich, privileged girl shine shoes, wash my feet, and clean my ship without so much as a word of backtalk." His lone eye glared at her, "So… either you are much smarter than I gave you credit for… or… I may be missing something about you. Something rather important."

Levy gulped. She could feel that all too familiar knot of fear winding up in her stomach, "What makes you think I'm a rich, priviledged girl?" She asked, her voice trembling as she spoke.

Euron chuckled, sipped from his bottle, then replied, "You know how to read, for one. For two, you have a surname that isn't a bastard's name. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, there is a house in the Reach with the surname _Mac_ Garden." He swirled the wine in his bottle, "Sounds like a name from that part of world. Everything there has something to do with a plant or flower. Rather queer I say. Then again, the Iron Islands tend to do the same. Only opposite. Lots of names involving the sea… or raiding… or pillaging." He leaned back and let out a long breath, "Ever been to Pyke with your lordling father, Levy _Mac_ Garden?"

 _Pyke?_ Levy had no idea what he was talking about. But she couldn't let him know that. She had to act the part. Pretend she knew while at the same time, signaling that she was a little ignorant. Enough to make him believe that she had never been to this place called Pyke while at the same time she was aware of it's existence. And so, she started working on his boots before casually replying.

"No."

"I figured." Euron wiped his bearded mouth, "Few of you Westerosi's have. Even if you did, it's not like the Ironborn would've welcomed you onto their shores." Levy sighed in relief. He bought the charade. "It's my home. Well… as close to home as this ship is." He glanced about the rafters of his cabin as the deck swayed beneath them, "I was born on Pyke. Third born son, I had claim to nothing. Not even a pile of dog shit. That all belonged to my eldest brother, Balon. Oh how he was the favorite. And Victarion! Don't get me started on that idiot." He took another long swig from his bottle, "That man is all muscle and no brain. I'm amazed he can captain at all. But I will give him this… he is brilliant on the seas, as all Greyjoys should be."

Levy glanced at Euron, "You talk as if you haven't been home in a long time."

Euron gave her a hard stare and Levy was afraid she made a fatal mistake. Did she speak out of turn? Was she even supposed to reply at all? The knot grew tighter in her stomach. Then Euron's expression softened.

"Aye, it has been quite a long time." He glanced at the bottle, "I cannot go home. Not yet. I did some… things." he said cryptically, "And my older brother, Victarion, threw a tantrum over it all. Convinced Balon to banish me and my crew. I cannot go home until Balon is dead." He tilted his head to the side, "Given that I am the youngest in the family, I'd say that there is still a good chance I'll set foot on Pyke once again." He chuckled to himself, "Balon isn't getting any younger after all."

Levy bit her lip to force herself from replying. Her entire focus was on the boots as she vigorously rubbed the polish into the fine leather.

"What about you Lady _Mac_ Garden?" Euron began, "What's your home like?"

Levy froze. How was she going to reply to that!? She didn't know what the lands in this world were like. One wrong word, one slip of the tongue, and the facade would fall apart. He would know. And she would most likely be dead.

"Um…" She started polishing the second boot, "It's a small town. Quiet, most of the time. Although there is a lively market." She found herself starting to describe Magnolia in all but name, "There a few canals that run through the city. Not big enough for a ship like this, but big enough for small boats. The water in those canal's are so crystal clear, you can see your reflection perfectly in them. And there is this…" She paused, searching for the proper term to describe Cathedral. What did that one prisoner she was with in the brig call it? "Sept." She recalled, "One of the biggest you'll ever lay eyes on."

"A religious town, eh?"

Levy nodded, "Sort of. I think it's just a way for…" She paused again, searching for the right words to say, "For my Lord Father to draw the correct attention to his city. You need something to draw people in after all."

"Aye that you do. That you do." He grimaced, "That'd be the one thing the damn Ironborn do not understand." Levy glanced at him, her intellectual curiosity starting to get piqued, "My brothers and sisters in the Iron Islands, all they care about is raiding. Plunder and gold! Woman and fame! They care not about building their homes or creating a great city. No…" He shook his head remorsefully, "If I ever sit upon the salt throne that will change. I will bring a golden age to the Iron Islands the likes of which have not been seen in over three thousand years! Not since the Drowned God himself appeared to the Ironborn and gave them his blessing." He nodded, "And that time approaches. I just need to wait a while longer."

The door to his cabin opened and a cook marched in with two porcelain plates lade with food. There both held fish, pan fried and seasoned. Each had a red apple sitting on the edge of the plate along with a healthy portion of seaweed. And at the sight of the green substance, Euron wrinkled his nose.

"Suppose it's nearly time to make port again." He snatched the plate from the cook and nodded for him to deliver the other to Levy. When her arrived to her, he thrust the plate at her hands and walked out. Levy held the plate and stared at the food while she heard Euron's teeth crunching on the dried seaweed.

"I'd kill for some decent carrots." Euron grumbled before nodding, "Aye, tomorrow we sail for port." He jumped to his feet, energy abounding in him once again as he set his plate on the wooden stool and glided over to a table where a map of the world rested. A map only he was allowed to look at. He made that very clear to Levy the first night, when she tried to sneak a peak, only to be backhanded by him. She saw his finger running along the right hand section of the map, "Yunkai is closest." He nodded, "Aye… Yunkai. We'll go there. And after that… after that…" he ran a hand through his thick black locks and grinned, "Maybe we find a village to pillage. That'll get the boy's blood flowing again. I can tell they're getting bored."

He sighed and moved back to his chair, slumping into its soft embrace. Indulging in the only luxury he allowed himself to have.

"Um…" Levy began, drawing Euron's cold gaze, "Captain, may I ask something?" She couldn't help but speak. Her curiosity was getting the better of her. She was an intellectual. Someone who desired to learn whenever she could. And she loved to discover new things, learn about new culture, places, and people. The mercurial nature of Euron Greyjoy and the strange practices of the Ironborn only emboldened these traits.

His smiling eye glared at her. She half expected him to jump to his feet, storm over to her, and beat her for speaking out of turn. Like he did with any other prisoner. Yet for some reason, he nodded instead.

"You are the captain right?" He nodded, "Then how come you don't have more…" Levy waved a hand in the air, "Stuff."

"Stuff?" Euron folded his hands, "You mean why don't I claim all of the plunder."

"Yes. Why? Isn't that was captain's do?"

Euron tapped his fingers together, "Do I look like I have any need of those useless things, Lady _Mac_ Garden." He leaned forward, "Gold, is nothing more than a trinket that men make valuable because they think it's shiny. Woman are only good for a short while, then they grow flabby and uninteresting. Rich food only serves to make you fat. And wine well…" he glanced at the bottle, "Eh… there's an exception for wine. No, Levy, I am not interested in simple pleasures like that. They are temporary. What I desire is something that lasts much longer and is far more valuable than any treasure in this world."

Levy took a bite of the fish on her plate, "And that would be?"

Euron Greyjoy smirked and took a large bite of seaweed, "Power, Levy _Mac_ Garden. It is the only thing that matters in this world. And it is the only thing that I covet." He rested his head back against the cushions of his chair, eyes closed, mouth still gnawing on seaweed, "Now get back to work and don't speak again."

Levy nodded, finished her meal, snatched the polish and rag, and continued making his boots shine.

 **And chapter! Another slow, but fun one to write! This relationship between Levy and Euron is proving to be very interesting. I will say, this will not be a romantic relationship. (Bleh!) Not in the slightest. That would betray Euron's character. Like he already said, he doesn't care about stuff like that. If anything, this is Levy just being curious and trying to learn and Euron simply indulging her curiosities for now. But he is a very unpredictable and violent man. Who know's what he might do to her at this point.**

 **For his character, I'm drawing more inspiration from the books than the show. I really feel like the show missed out on some of the best aspects of Euron Greyjoy's character (Although he is still very fun to watch). He has an almost mystical, dark presence in the books compared to just a pirate vibe in the show. I think that's much more entertaining.**

 **Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	12. Wendy III

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Wendy

Petyr smoothed some of the wrinkles from his satin shirt as he looked in the mirror that rested on the wall in his solar.

"What are the great houses of Westeros?" He asked as he straightened his collar.

Wendy squinted her eyes, straining her memory, "Stark… Lannister… Baratheon… um… Tyrell… Martell… and… and…" She sighed and shook her head.

Petyr turned around when he heard her defeated sigh, "Well you cannot simply give up that easily. They are only names. And you need to learn them." He pointed out firmly, "Come on now. There are several more. You can do it."

Wendy nodded and pursed her lips, "Arryn?"

Petyr nodded, "Very good. A much more obscure one, but a great house nonetheless. Now, there is another."

Wendy gulped. She wracked her memory. Days upon days of reading the interesting history of Westeros came rushing back to her mind. She recalled all of the interesting people she had read about. Lords of the North who build massive structures. Knights from the Westerlands who fought for honor and justice. And kings who rode-

"Dragons." Wendy mumbled, "House Targaryen!"

Petyr whipped around, "Careful now!" He hissed, "That is not a name you should blurt out."

Wendy paled, "Wh-why?" She asked.

Petyr bowed his head then turned back to the mirror, smoothing out one last wrinkle with a brush of his hand.

"A story for another time. And one that will no doubt sicken you." Once he was satisfied with his appearance he turned to Wendy, "The last one is Greyjoy, Wendy. The smallest of the great houses. Although an argument can be made, that house Tully of Riverrun is now a great house. But for now, they are relegated to just governing their little corner of Westeros. They don't have nearly the influence that families such as the Starks, Arryns, or-"

"Or Lannisters!"

"Yes," Petyr smiled, "Or Lannisters have." He let his hands fall to his sides, "Are you ready to go?"

Wendy looked at her own mirror now. The dress Petyr gave her was absolutely stunning. A beautiful garment made of shimmering blue fabric. She felt like she was wearing the sky itself. She smiled brightly then looked back at him.

"I think so."

"Good. The King is expecting me soon, and I can't leave you here today."

Wendy nodded, grabbed her crutch and followed Petyr towards the stairs. Once there, Petyr lowered himself so Wendy could easily wrap one of her small arms over his shoulder. As they both hobbled down the steps, Wendy glanced at him.

"Why can't I stay today?"

"Because, I have no one to keep an eye on you. All of the girls are going to be very busy today. So, you will come with me to the Red Keep."

Wendy's eyes lit up with excitement. The first time she had entered the Red Keep was a fascinating experience. The only blemish on that memory being her harsh interaction with the Queen.

"But before we get to the Red Keep, I need to stop at the Apothecary's."

Wendy quirked an eyebrow at the unfamiliar term.

"A potion maker." Petyr explained, "The one I'm going to specializes in the healing arts. I trust him to do a much better job than any maester, and most certainly that oaf Pycelle."

"Who's Pycelle?" Wendy asked as the pair descended the steps from Petyr's solar down towards the main hall of the building.

"Did you notice the rather old man shuffling alongside Lord Varys." Wendy gave him a puzzled look, "He had a very bushy white beard."

"Oh!" Wendy exclaimed, "Yeah I saw him. He had that really long chain around his shoulders."

"That would be him." Petyr nodded as he pushed the door open and held it so Wendy could exit first. Already she was wrinkling her nose as the rotten stench of King's Landing filled her senses. It was a horrid mixture of sewage, sweat, and obnoxious perfume. Petyr quickly hopped into the small carriage that was awaiting the pair. Then it rattled down the cobblestone roads, downhill, away from the Red Keep.

"This is why I insisted on an early start to the day." Petyr glanced out the window as shops began to open their shuttered windows, "Because once we get there, it is going to take a long time to make our way back up the hill to the keep." He shook his head, "Sometimes I believe there are far too many people in this city.

"Have you ever considered moving?" Wendy asked innocently.

Petyr smirked, "And miss out on all of the fun at the Red Keep. No…" He shook his head, "I can deal with the crowded roads and the stench just as long as I can also keep doing what I enjoy."

"What would that be?" Wendy saw his lips twitch a little, "Is it running your um…" She cleared her throat, "Business."

He glanced at her with a small smirk across his lips, "I suppose you could say that."

….

She assumed the Apothecary's shop would be like Porlyusica's house back in the Earthland. The old woman back home was the formal doctor of Fairy Tail. Always ready to assistance (most of the time begrudgingly so) when a member of the guild suffered a severe injury. Her home was always impeccably clean, yet at the same time filled with all manners of potted plants that she used to make her incredible healing potions. Wendy would often ask her what each plant did for which potion. And although Porlyusica vehemently declared that she hated humans, she was more than happy to answer her questions (With a good deal of venomous sass thrown in with her answer as well).

This apothecary Petyr took her to, was the opposite of that. Wendy felt like she walked into a cloud of dust and dirt as soon as she entered the small shack that lined the western wall of King's Landing. They didn't even bother trying to disguise the horrid stench coming from the rest of the city. There was no perfume in the air here. Only a smell so nauseating that it nearly made Wendy's head spin off of her shoulders.

And while Porlyusica's plants were always neatly groomed and green, the ones in this shop were wild, overgrown, some even lined with a peculiar white fuzz. She almost touched a leaf lined with the stuff when the shop owner jumped up from behind a doorway and warned her not to. Bad things would happen, he said. And judging from the serious glance he gave her, she had reason to believe he meant it. That and the pile of dead flies that she noticed beside the strange leaf.

 _This is a healer's place?_ She thought with disgust. In the background she could make out Petyr making small talk with the apothecary as the two slowly walked to a back room.

Wendy crept along the walls of the shop. Careful not to touch any of the plants while at the same time, looking at each with a profound fascination. Healing was in her blood. Her mother Grandine was the Sky Dragon, and a Sky Dragon's specialty was healing. Maybe she could learn a thing or two here. And so, she hobbled along on her crutch. One foot keeping her balanced while her broken leg sat rigid in plaster beside it.

Eventually, the rows of potted plants ended and gave way to jars filled with many things that either made Wendy's curiosity rise, or bile rise up her throat. One jar was filled with millions of live ants. Another with monarch butterfly wings. And she swore she saw one filled with a nebulous green liquid with a finger floating in it. She had quickly backed away from that one and tried to push it out of her mind.

Her eyes darted over to a small jar filled with an opaque white liquid. She pursed her lips and tilted her head.

 _I wonder what this one is._

"You did what I asked?" She heard Petyr say from the room over. Little did he know, she could hear him. He never asked about her heigtened senses, and she never told him about them. Mostly because she didn't find it important to tell him. It was just her senses after all. It wasn't like it was her actual magic.

"I did, milord." The apothecary replied in a hushed tone, "Lady Lysa was given the tears, as requested."

"Very good." Petyr replied before Wendy heard the clink clank of gold clattering into someone's hands, "For your troubles. And for the milk of the poppy. Little Wendy's cast must come off soon. And it will hurt when it does."

"Of course!" The apothecary replied in a much louder voice, "The last thing I want is a little girl in pain." The pair emerged from the back room, with Petyr cradling a small vial of white liquid, "Give my regards to Lord Arryn at the Red Keep." The apothecary continued, "I do hope he grows well."

"As do I." Petyr nodded with a smile before shaking the man's hand and waving to Wendy for her to follow him out, "An interesting little place." Petyr noted as they exited and walked back to the carriage.

"I'll say!" Wendy remarked, "How do you make potions out of that… stuff!" She shuddered in revulsion.

"Sometimes it is not potions a man seeks, but poisons." Wendy felt her breath get caught in her throat, "After all," Petyr continued, "A poison certainly helps a hunter take down a stag much more easily."

Wendy gulped, "And 'The Tears'?" She asked, suddenly feeling a pit of concern growing in her chest. She noticed Petyr's eyes widened ever so slightly, "Is that a potion, or a poison?"

As quickly as his surprise appeared, Petyr banished it away. And he chuckled, "You overheard all of that?" Wendy hesitantly nodded, "Well… no need to worry yourself, Wendy. The Tears are a potion. Lady Lysa Arryn's son, Robert, is a sickly little boy. The Tears help with his chills that he often contracts. Although a side effect is that the eyes grow a tad runny for several hours, hence the name." The carriage clattered loudly on the road, forcing Petyr to raise his voice over the clacking of wooden wheels and the hocking of merchants from their shops along the street, "In fact, you may be meeting young Robert today." He nodded, "And the other children. Yes! Actually, that is perfect! I will make sure you spend the day with the children. They have Kingsguard around them, so you will be safe."

"And," Wendy started before smiling proudly at Petyr, "They don't ask dangerous questions."

Petyr looked at her with genuine surprise before his lips spread into a wide grin, "Indeed they don't, Wendy. Indeed, they don't."

The carriage ride took another half an hour before it finally rolled to a stop in front of the Red Keep's massive doors. Once the carriage door opened, Petyr calmly stepped out and offered his hand to Wendy, who clutched her crutch and carefully stepped down from the carriage. They then silently walked up to the doors. They swung inward, iron hinges groaning, before revealing the main hall and the empty Iron Throne.

Petyr paused beside the first stone column that led to the Iron Throne, "Well… time to find the-"

"SER POUNCE!"

Wendy blinked as the fattest fur ball she had ever seen in her life came skidding along the floor by her feet, hissing and puffing as it streaked along the floor. Not seconds later, a young boy with short blonde hair and bright green eyes came rushing by Wendy, giving chase to the massive house cat.

"Well, there's one." Petyr remarked.

"Tommen!"

Both Petyr and Wendy glanced to their right to see a young girl rushing after the little boy. She paused though when she stumbled on Wendy and Petyr.

"Oh!" The girl smiled brightly before doing an awkward courtesy, "Good Morning, Lord Baelish."

"Good Morning, Princess Myrcella." Petyr smiled cheerfully, "I see it is already a lively one as well."

"It is, Lord Baelish." Myrcella grinned, her bright green eyes sparkling with excitement, "Although Tommen once again let his cat run about the castle. Mother is not going to be very pleased about that."

"Especially if he wanders off to a place he is not supposed to." Petyr noted. Myrcella nodded in agreement. Petyr then glanced at Wendy, "Well… I suppose you could help her?"

"I could?" Wendy replied, casting a quick glance at her leg.

Petyr nodded and smirked. A smirk that made Wendy pause for a moment. She had seen that smirk a few times before. Whenever he was speaking to one of his girl's when he caught them lying to him. He'd play innocent. Like he didn't know what had happened to the missing gold dragons from his coffers. He'd smirk at them, a telling sign that he actually knew far more than he let on. The smart ones noticed this and immediately confessed. The dumb ones… Wendy didn't see them the next day. Petyr said that they had been released from employment at his brothel and gone to seek employment elsewhere. Although that speech always seemed to carry a hint of menace that her ears always picked up on. And now, he was smirking at her that way.

"I'm sure you could." He replied before sighing, "Well, your grace," he bowed to Princess Myrcella, "I must be going to the small council chambers. No doubt Lord Arryn awaits me."

"I heard he has grown more ill." Myrcella replied, "They say a fever has taken hold of him."

Petyr's jaw shifted, "Well… that is most unfortunate. I pray to the seven for his swift recovery. But that doesn't mean I cannot pause in my own duties." He looked at Wendy, "I will come find you when I am finished today."

"Ok." Wendy replied before Petyr quickly left the two girls alone. When he exited behind the Iron Throne, both Wendy and Myrcella heard a loud crash followed by Tommen's distressed cries.

Mycrella rolled her eyes.

"Oh dear." She muttered, "We better hurry."

Wendy hobbled after the young princess.

"Can I ask why?" Wendy said, forgetting the common courtesies that were required when speaking to one of the royal family. Myrcella didn't seem to notice. And if she did, she clearly didn't care.

"Because Ser Pounce ran in the direction of the kitchens." Myrcella cringed, "House cats do not exactly know to not jump on the cutting boards and cupboards."

And so, with Wendy hobbling along as fast as her legs could carry her, the two girls raced to the kitchens. Once arriving, they found a complete mess. The cooks were in a furious uproar over shattered glasses and spilled containers of food. But there was no sign of Tommen or Ser Pounce.

"There's only one other place they could be." Myrcella muttered before picking up the hem of her dress and racing down the halls towards the royal living quarters.

"Wait up!" Wendy called as she attempted to keep up.

She saw Myrcella skid around a corner then disappear from view. Wendy winced as her injured leg began to throb. Eventually she to made it around the corner, and bumped straight into a massive wall of steel.

"Ouch!" She squealed before looking up. As soon as she saw the face of the man she ran into, her breath got stuck in her throat.

He was a hideous looking man. Greasy black hair ran down from the top of his head down to his neck. A mean snarl was etched on his lips while angry eyes stared down at her. But what caught Wendy's attention, was the mass of twisted, scarred flesh that covered half of the man's face, rendering it stiff and nearly immovable.

"Watch where you're fucking going." He growled, before uncorking a bottle in his left hand and greedily sipping it's contents.

"S-sorry."

He grunted and shoved his way past her, "No you're not."

Wendy stared at the man as he strode down the hall and out of sight.

 _Whoever he was, he's not friendly._ Wendy took a calming breath, just now realizing that her heart was racing. _Ok, now where are they?_

"Wendy!" She heard Myrcella call before the little blonde haired girl peeked her head out from a doorway, "In here!"

Wendy smiled and hobbled over. Myrcella grabbed her hand and pulled her into the room. Inside was Tommen, clutching the enormously fat cat named Ser Pounce. Sitting in the chair across from him was another man with sandy colored hair and dark eyes. He wore a loose fitting shirt and rested with a smile on his face as his hands held a small stringed instrument that looked like a harp to Wendy.

"Oh good! Another guest!" The man grinned before waving his hand, "Please sit, and listen to the great Marillion play his harp." His smile widened, "After all, I do enjoy entertaining royalty." And he began to tune his instrument.

Myrcella beamed at Wendy who also flashed a smile. Meanwhile, Tommen sat cross legged on the floor, Ser Pounce cradled in his arms. Wendy saw the cat give her a grumpy glance before giving up and resting in Tommen's arms.

Marillion plucked several strings then smiled.

"Perfect!" he declared as Wendy took a seat, "Now then! What shall I play for you children today. Perhaps… The Bear and the Maiden Fair?"

Tommen gleefully clapped his hands while Myrcella nodded happily. Wendy just looked confused.

 _What kind of song is that?_

"Excellent choice, your graces." Marillion smiled before strumming his harp, "Well… there once was-"

"Stop." A sharp voice snapped, cutting Marillion off.

Wendy turned around to see that same knight she bumped into quietly walking in. Beside him was a boy with the same blonde hair as Tommen and Myrcella. His green eyes narrowed at Wendy before he turned to look at the singer.

"Such a trivial song in this great keep!" He declared before striding over to stand beside Wendy, he then gestured to her, "And in the presence of an honored guest of Lord Baelish's as well." He frowned, "No, a first song in this keep for her… must be a grand tale. One that she should remember for all time."

The scarred knight slumped into a chair, uncorked his bottle, and drank yet again while the newcomer spoke.

"Perhaps, singer," The boy continued, "A better song would be the Rains of Castamere."

Wendy saw Marillion shift uncomfortably in his seat, "A grim tale, your grace." The boy narrowed his eyes causing Marrilion to gulp, "But!" he recoved, "One that is truly memorable and grand. Yes! I shall perform it."

"Oh come on Joffrey." Myrcella whined, "We've heard that song so often."

"And it would be well for you to hear it again." Joffrey sneered, "After all, for others it is grim. But for us… for our family, it is a triumph."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow, puzzled. How could a song be both a grim tale and a tale of triumph at the same time. She was about to ask when Marillion began.

 _And who are you, the proud lord said,_

 _that I must bow so low?_

 _Only a cat of a different coat,_

 _that's all the truth I know._

 _In a coat of gold or a coat of red,_

 _a lion still has claws,_

 _And mine are long and sharp, my lord,_

 _as long and sharp as yours._

 _And so he spoke, and so he spoke,_

 _that lord of Castamere,_

 _But now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

 _with no one there to hear._

 _Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,_

 _and not a soul to hear_

As he sang, Wendy could feel the glee of Myrcella and Tommen ebb away. Marillion's voice came out slow and somber. His tenor dropping to a near whisper as he neared the end of the short refrain. As he plucked the last few chords on his harp, he sighed and and sang the last verse. A verse that rang through Wendy's mind.

 _Not a soul to hear._

And he finished.

Tommen and Myrcella bowed their heads, as if recognizing the mournful tone of Marillion and choosing to imitate it. But Joffrey did not, instead his face twisted into a snarl.

"What was that!?" He demanded, "That was not the Rains of Castamere!"

Marillion glanced up, "Twas that very song your grace. Sung in the way I was instructed so many years ago."

"NO!" Joffrey bellowed, causing everyone but the scarred knight in the background to jump, "The Rains of Castemere are not some funeral song! They are a song of my grandfather's triumph over traitors! It speaks of his mighty victory over treasonous Lords!"

Marillion grimaced, "It does, your grace."

"Then why do you sing it in such a way!?"

"Because it isn't just about the triumph of Lord Tywin, your grace." Wendy saw Joffrey's eyes boring hate filled holes into Marillion, "It is about he complete destruction of a house."

Wendy's eyes widened in shock. The song was about the destruction of an entire family. She looked over at Joffrey.

 _And he thinks it should be sung cheerfully!?_

Joffrey clenched his fists and turned to the drunken knight, "DOG!"

The knight awoke from a small nap and cracked open his eyes to stare lazily at the king.

"I want this fool of a singer removed from the castle!"

The knight frowned. Wendy could see he was deciding whether or not even moving was worth his time.

"I command it Dog!"

The knight let out a long breath and rose to his feet, "As you wish, your grace." he grumbled before marching over to Marillion and roughly grabbing him by the neck, causing the slight singer to yelp in pain.

"No! He's nice!" Tommen began to blubber, "I like him."

"Shut up!" Joffrey barked causing Tommen to start crying.

"Does he have to be removed from the castle?" Wendy asked the knight as he dragged Marillion to the door.

"He does. Prince's orders." The Knight grunted back before leaving.

Once the doors shut, Wendy wheeled around to face Joffrey.

"He didn't deserve that!" She snapped.

Joffrey paused and turned to look at her, shock on his face. It seemed no one had ever confronted him about his behavior before.

"Yes." he scowled, "He did. He did not do as I commanded."

Wendy frowned, "Yes he did. He sang the song you wanted. Just because he didn't like it doesn't mean you-"

*SMACK*

Wendy fell back as Joffrey's slapped her hard across the face.

"Joffrey!" Myrcella cried.

"SHUT UP BEFORE I DO THE SAME TO YOU!" Joffrey screamed, jabbing his finger at her, he then bent over Wendy, "Now, whoever you are," He reached down and wrapped his hand around her jaw, "Never. Question. Your. Crown. Prince." He growled before shoving her back down to the floor. He then smoothed out some wrinkles in his shirt before stepping over a shaken Wendy and leaving the room.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Myrcella hurried over to Wendy.

"Wendy!" She cried as the blue haired girl slowly sat herself up, the back of her hand rubbing against her now bruised cheek, "Are you alright."

Wendy nodded, "I've had worse." She then nodded at her leg, "I'll be fine."

"He's a big meanie!" Tommen cried, clenching the squirming Ser Pounce even tighter against his breast.

Myrcella nodded in agreement, "He is. But he is our brother, Tommen. He is family." She sighed, "Unfortunately." She held out a hand to Wendy, "Do you need help."

Wendy nodded and took Myrcella's hand. The young princess heaved with all of her might and yanked Wendy up to her feet.

"I apologize for Joffrey." Myrcella bowed her head, "He can be a tad violent at times."

Wendy rubbed her cheek again. That was the first time anyone had ever hit her for such a menial thing before. She had been attacked in her life. It came with being a wizard in a wizard guild. She could still recall the injuries she received during her mission with Fairy Tail and the other guilds as they battled the Oracion Seis. Those were some of the worst wounds she ever had. A slap didn't hurt too badly anymore.

Before joining her new family, she would've started crying at being slapped like that. And Carla would've told her to be strong and not show weakness over being slapped. To strike back and teach the bully a lesson. To confidently stand up to her attacker. But now, she didn't need to be persuaded to do that. Now, she had examples to look up to. The prime one being Erza and how she never backed down from an enemy. Wendy greatly admired her for that. She hoped to one day be as strong and brave as Erza, or even Natsu. And that started with not allowing Joffrey to slap her ever again.

"He does that to me again," Wendy said, her voice quivering a little as she continued to rub her cheek, "I'll hit him back. And he won't get up as easily I did."

Myrcella paled. Then she nodded.

"Hopefully it never comes to that." She then looked over at Tommen, "Come on Tommen. We should get Wendy back to Lord Baelish."

Tommen nodded and scooped up Ser Pounce before following his sister and Wendy out the door.

 **And chapter. So this chapter introduced Wendy to the royal children a little bit. Including Joffrey (GOD I HATE HIM!). We also got to see her and Littlefinger together a little more, which I absolutely love writing.**

 **I also want to say something really quick. In my opinion, a great story must involve having characters change in some form or fashion. That includes this one. Our favorite characters will certainly not be the same ones we know when this story comes to a close. Westeros is too traumatic for that. However, unlike the original of this story, it won't be such a jarring change (A prime example being Wendy's arc in the original story which I reread now and cringe a little at how badly I screwed up her character). My goal is to make the character progression more believable and slow. Let it all build up over time instead of exploding all at once. Wendy slowly learning how to read situations from Littlefinger is a perfect example of that. (Although he's still able to manipulate her it seems).**

 **Anyways, the next chapter will most likely be an Erza or Gray chapter. So stay tuned. I'll try to update sometime this week, but with work that won't be easy. I'll do my best for you guys! Anyways, let me know what you guys think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	13. Erza IV

**Hello again everyone! I've got a new chapter ready to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

Erza rubbed her frigid hands together, doing her best to bring some sort of feeling back to her frozen fingers before she quickly slipped the leather gloves lined with wool back over her hands. The morning came late today, and with it came a cold that she didn't think was possible. Even with the sun rising high over the sky above her, she could see her breath misting in the air in front of her. Like small puffs coming from a chimney as she breathed in the frozen air.

She was still having trouble adjusting to the cold. Magnolia was always a very warm city during the summer, and more temperate during the winter. There were several weeks where snow would fall, but that was it. Just a few weeks of needing to wear winter clothing then it was back to preparing for sweltering heat.

That was not the case in the North of Westeros. Here it was perpetually cold. She laughed in Jon's face when he told her that it was summertime, or at least the tail end of it. When she realized he was serious she could only shiver at the prospect of a true winter here. Winterfell was no stranger to summer snows, as they were called. And today was ripe for one of them. The sky overhead was bleak and overcast, already threatening to drop small snowflakes down onto the gray landscape.

While Erza stomped her feet into the hard ground of the castle yard, attempting to regain feeling in her boots, Jon snow stood off to the side, leaning up against a post, smirking.

"Warm enough for you?"

Erza glared at him, "Like hell it is!" She huffed and wrapped the fur cloak she had been given tighter around her armor, "I still can't believe this is summer!"

Jon's smirk widened, "You sound like one of those southern ladies now."

Erza frowned, "And how would you know what one of them sounds like?" She asked as she strode over to the rack of sparring swords and gripped one tightly between her frozen fingers. The leather of the grip felt icy to the touch. Instead of a soft grip, it felt like she was squeezing a stone, "I hear that hardly any southern people come this far north." She shrugged reluctantly shrugged the cloak from her shoulders and stretched her arms, "At least that's what Maester Luwin says."

Jon nodded as he too gripped one of the blunted sparring swords from the rack, "He's not wrong. But every now and then, the castle gets a strange _visitor._ "

Erza caught the slight change in his voice, "Are you talking about me?" She asked as she strode confidently out into the yard, sword twirling in her right hand.

"Who else?" Jon replied as he lined himself up across from Erza in the stance she taught him.

Erza shook her head and readied herself as well, "I'm not _that_ strange!"

"Oh really?" Jon lunged forward, attempting to lash his blade across the chest of Erza's breastplate. A movement the redhead easily sidestepped before lunging back, which Jon blocked, "You have the reddest hair anyone's ever seen," Jon continued, shoving Erza's sword to the side before taking a vicious hack at her left arm, only for her to jump away and deliver a backhanded swing at Jon, which he once again caught just before it hit his body, "You are a woman who's a knight." Erza suddenly jumped forward, closing the distance between the two, their blades hissing against each other as they locked together at the hilt, "And you hate the cold."

"Don't you?" Erza replied.

Jon grit his teeth as Erza pressed down on his guard, "It keeps me sharp I suppose."

Then he was looking up at the sky. The wind left his body as he landed heavily on his back. Jon blinked the stars from his eyes before letting out a weak cough. He winced and groaned before seeing Erza's outstretched hand.

"Not sharp enough it seems."

Jon propped himself up on his elbows, head shaking, "Every damn time." He muttered before taking Erza's hand and rising to his feet, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Erza asked as she got ready to fight once again.

"Knock me on my ass at will." Jon replied, "How do you do it? I can almost never see it coming!"

Erza shrugged, "Dunno. Guess you'll just have to figure that one out."

And the dance continued. Each one hacking and slashing, stabbing, and stepping, lunging and backpedaling throughout the yard as they had done for the past two days now. Erza was slowly growing to admire Jon as a fellow swordsman. He had talent, that was undeniable. The fact that he was able to pick up what she was teaching him so quickly showed that he was an absolute natural with a sword. Given a few months, maybe even a year or two, and he might be able to actually push her in a pitched battle. The thought of another swordsman equaling her in skill made the red head giddy with excitement. There weren't a whole lot of skilled knights anymore in Fiore. So to actually have a challenge that didn't involve magic would be a welcome and fun change of pace.

"How goes the search?" Jon asked as he backed away for a moment in order to catch his breath, his sword lowering to signal Erza that he intended to rest.

Erza lowered her guard as well and brushed some hair out of her eyes, "Not well." She replied, "I've begun to figure out what this land in basically like. So that's good." Jon nodded as he walked over to that same wooden post and picked up a small skin of water. He uncorked it then greedily drank from it's near frozen contents, "However, Maester Luwin hasn't received any word regarding strange appearances or events."

Jon quirked an eyebrow, "Does something strange need to happen in order for you to find your friends?"

Erza laughed, "Strange would be a good outcome. It's more than likely something important will be accidentally blown up by them."

"Blown up?"

Erza nodded, "One of my friends that possibly wound up in the land, he's a fire wizard." Jon opened his mouth in understanding, "And he isn't exactly known for his subtlety when dealing with problems. Every time I'm on a mission with him, something gets turned to ash." Jon held out the skin of water to Erza. She gratefully took it and took a sip, "But…" She wiped her mouth and handed it back to Jon, "I can say that if he has who I think may be with him, then he won't do anything too stupid."

"And who do you think is with him?" Jon asked.

"A good friend of mine, hopefully." Erza replied rolling her shoulders and starting to tense as the cold's fingers began to grip her body once again, "Her name is Lucy. She's not really like the rest of my teammates in the guild. First of all, she's smarter than all of us."

"Really? I consider you rather smart." Jon replied dropping into his stance once again.

"I'm combat smart. I'm talking book smart now." Erza replied, "But thanks for the compliment." Erza lunged and Jon parried, "Second of all though, she seems to keep Natsu on as short a leash as I would. So that's another positive." She sidestepped a thrust from Jon, "And lastly, she is very cautious. Or… as cautious as someone from my guild can be. I don't usually think of Lucy when I think of a wizard running into the heat of battle. Although, she doesn't shy away from it when the need arises."

Jon nodded, "Good qualities to have." He grit his teeth for a moment as his bones rattled from a powerful slash, "Sounds like a good person to keep an impulsive friend under control."

"She is, yes." Erza smiled.

"It also appears to me, that you all are a rather close knit group."

"You could say that." Their swords clashed again, the metal ringing throughout the empty yard, "Everyone in Fairy Tail is really close. But our team… Myself, Natsu, Lucy, Wendy, and Gray. They call us the strongest team in the guild. And they are my family. Heck, I've known Natsu and Gray since I was just a little girl."

Jon smiled. But it was different. It seemed sad, as if he was wishing for something that he could never have. Their swords clashed one more time before both lowered their guard simultaneously. Jon took several quick breaths and wiped some sweat from his brow.

"The sun's almost above our heads." He noted.

"Yup." Erza replied, "Everyone's gonna be awake soon."

Jon frowned, "I don't mean that." Both he and Erza moved to put the sparring swords away, "Two days ago, some of our soldiers captured two deserters from the Night's Watch. Father has tried to speak with them, but one just babbles about nonsense, and the other refuses to talk at all. So… he's going to execute them today."

Erza's jaw fell open, "What?"

Jon looked at her puzzled, "Does that disturb you?"

Erza blinked, "A little, yeah." She shook her head as she placed her fur cloak over her shoulders once again, "So what you are saying is, because these men of the… what was it again?"

"Night's Watch."

"Right!" Erza remarked, "Because they left their post they are going to be killed?" Jon nodded and Erza grimaced, "That seems rather extreme."

Jon shrugged, "It's the King's Justice. The law of this land. Men of the Night's Watch are sworn to service at the Wall for life. They take no lands, no titles, no wives. They serve the realm, that is their one and only purpose. It is the oath that they take. To abandon such an oath is to forsake all honor and dignity a man could have." Erza frowned, still not fully understanding why that warranted an execution. Jon sighed, "And… a majority of the men of the Night's Watch are former criminals." Erza's frown deepened, "They usually have a choice when they are caught. The normal punishment, or the Black. And when your options are losing a hand or wearing a black cloak for life-"

"Most choose the former."

Both Jon and Erza turned to see Lord Eddard Stark approaching with his sons Robb and Bran in tow. Behind those two were his ward, Theon Greyjoy, the kennel master and his son, and Lord Stark's captain of the guard, Jory Cassel.

Lord Stark's face looked grim today. Erza noticed, that when he was around his children, Eddard Stark was ever the good father. Teaching them about life, laughing with them, scolding them when necessary, and encouraging them in things they excelled at. She had even witnessed him laughing once when little Arya overshadowed young Bran at archery in the yard. But when it came to matters regarding the North, Eddard Stark the father was banished and Lord Stark, Warden of the North, took his place. A cold, grim face and even colder voice that shook with authority whenever he spoke. A perfect representative of the land he ruled.

"Ser Rodrik has already taken the two deserters to the block beyond the walls." Ned stated to Jon and Erza, "I was about to go deliver the King's Justice and I was wondering if you would be joining us?"

Jon instantly nodded, "Yes, Lord Stark."

Erza hesitated. She saw Lord Stark gaze directly at her. He could see how uncomfortable she suddenly was. Her entire body was tense. Then she looked at young Bran. He too seemed very tense. His bright face suddenly very pale as he stood beside his father. He was afraid to see the execution, just as much as Erza was nervous to go to one.

"I will." Erza replied, fastening her cloak around her shoulders and rubbing her arms, "Where are we going?"

"Just follow us." Lord Stark replied as he marched past Erza towards the castle stable where horses awaited the men. Erza nodded and waited as Robb, Bran, the Kennel master and his son, and Jory moved past. She paused again, waiting for Theon Greyjoy to step by her.

"You go ahead, my lady." Theon waved his hand and smirked, "I don't mind walking in your shadow."

"If you want to see a woman's ass Theon, go pay Ros." Jon snapped before shoving the Greyjoy forward.

"Fuck off, Bastard." Theon growled back before grinning at Erza, "But you are spectacular to look at." One menacing glare from Erza later, and he was scurrying after Lord Stark, leaving Jon and her to bring up the rear of the party.

As they exited the castle walls, Lord Stark and Jory rode in silence, side by side. Behind them, Robb spoke quietly to Bran then bombastically with Theon. The pair japing and jawing at each other, each nearly knocking each other off of their horses. And at the rear, Erza and Jon quietly rode. Although Jon could see Erza was fuming at Theon.

"Alright…" Jon glanced at Erza as the party began to move towards the Wolfswood, "What is it?"

"What?" Erza replied.

"You're angry about something."

Erza scowled.

"Is it Theon?"

"Partially." Erza replied before turning to face Jon, "Why do they call you that?"

"Call me what?"

"Bastard." Erza replied.

Jon's jaw clenched for a moment before he sighed, "Well-"

"I mean. You aren't a bad person at all!" Erza remarked, "In fact, you are a really good person! You're great to the Stark children! To everyone in the castle. You are a hell of a fighter. So why do they call you a bastard?"

Jon raised his eyebrows, "You mean you don't know?"

Erza frowned, "Know what?"

A pained sigh left Jon's lips, "Well… I'm a bastard because I'm my father's son." He let out a long breath before looking ahead at Lord Stark, "But not Lady Catelyn's."

Erza looked at Lord Stark as well. She was about to remark how that didn't make any sense when it all of a sudden clicked. They didn't mean Jon was a horrible person when the residents of the castle called him a bastard. He literally was a bastard. The illegitimate son of Lord Eddard Stark. Erza's eyes widened.

"So… you are-"

"I'm Lord Stark's son, yes." Jon nodded, "But don't let Lady Catelyn catch you saying that. I'm no Stark," He clarified, "I'm a Snow."

He snapped the reins on his horse and trotted ahead of Erza as she slowed down behind the rest of the party. That explained so much to her. Jon was not a nobleman, she learned that fairly early on. She assumed that maybe he was a knight's squire, or another ward to Lord Stark similar to Theon Greyjoy. She did not expect him to be Lord Stark's son though. The Lord of the North did not seem to be the kind of man who would break his marriage vows and sleep with another woman. Then again, Jon was maybe a year or two younger than her. Perhaps Lord Stark was a different man oh so many years ago.

The Wolfswood soon stretched out before them on the horizon as the party of horsemen reached the top of a small hill. A massive line of dark trees that disguised dangerous thickets crawling with wolves or worse. At the top of the hill was Rodrik Cassel, straddling a black horse, with four castle guardsmen at his side. Kneeling in the frozen grass were the two deserters, black sacks over their heads. Once they all reached Ser Rodrik, everyone dismounted.

The appearance of the two deserters were strange. The first wore a black cloak that had been reduced to mere rags from wear and tear. His head was frantically glancing back and forth, as if he was trying to see where he was from inside of the sack. His companion was even stranger. He wore no black cloak. In fact, he wore simple brown pants and shoes. His chest was bare and Erza could see-

Her heart froze. There, on the second deserters chest was a mark that she knew all too well.

"Here you go, Lord Stark." Theon said stiffly as he held out the pommel of a massive great sword to Lord Stark.

The Lord of Winterfell nodded before he gripped the hilt. With one powerful pull, he unsheathed the massive sword. The size of the sheath was not for show. The blade truly was massive. Nearly as tall as Lord Stark himself. The metal shimmered with a nearly black sheen as he gripped it in both hands. He sighed and planted the point in the earth as Rodrik grabbed the shirtless man and dragged him over to the block.

"Ice." She heard Jon mutter to Bran.

 _No._ Erza shook her head, hoping to god this wasn't who she thought it was.

"Remove the sack. Let him speak his last." Ned said solemnly.

"If he chooses to speak at all." Ser Rodrik muttered before yanking the sack from the man's head. "Say something boy!"

And Erza's heart stopped beating.

A mess of spiky, raven colored hair appeared from beneath the sack. The man's breath did not mist out from his mouth. It was as if the cold refused to touch him. A silver pendant hung around a silver chain around his neck. And dark eyes stared at the ground as he was shoved down onto the block of ironwood. His mouth did not move.

 _NO!_

Lord Stark slowly nodded his head, "In the name of Robert of House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm," Erza's tuned the rest out.

She had chosen to stay far back from the execution. Believing that distance would help keep her from doing or saying anything rash about what she believed to be a barbaric practice. But now, she was flying as fast as her feet could carry her towards the block of ironwood.

"I do sentence you to die." Ned finished with a quiet muttered before using his powerful arms to raise the greatsword over his head.

"GRAY!" Erza bellowed causing the man's head to snap upright.

"Erza?" He gasped.

Ice thundered down towards Gray's neck. Then the sound of metal ringing echoed through the empty landscape. Erza stood between Ice and Gray, her own sword raised, struggling against the weight and power behind Lord Stark's stroke.

She could see the surprise in Lord Stark's eyes. Then she saw a silent fury as his dark eyes bore into her.

"What are you doing?" He growled.

Erza heard other swords being unsheathed around her. All of the guards, Ser Rodrik, and Jory had encircled her. Meanwhile, Theon had knocked his bow and taken aim. Jon held Bran off to the side, unsure of what to do. And Rob shifted nervously near his father, uncertain of drawing his sword against the woman sworn to protect him and his siblings.

Erza's lips curled into a snarl as she stared down Lord Stark, "Protecting my family." She growled back.

The silent fury in Lord Stark's eyes suddenly disappeared as his eyes darted over to Gray then back at Erza.

"Him?"

"He is-" Erza was tempted to blurt out her association with Gray through the guild. But only Lord Stark, Jon Snow, and Maester Luwin knew about her true origins. And they all agreed to keep it secret, lest the kingdom think Lord Stark was harboring witches in his midst. "An _old_ friend of mine." Erza finished staring directly at Lord Stark, their swords still locked over Erza's head, "He's not a member of the Night's Watch. Never has been. He was a resident of the town just outside of Castle Black."

"I was?" Erza's eyes shot Gray a deadly gaze and he gulped, "I WAS! Yes! I'm not a member of the… uh… what was it again?"

"Night's Watch." Ser Rodrik snarled.

"Yeah! That!" Gray exclaimed, "If I was, I'd be dressed like him." He nodded at the other prisoner, "And not half naked like I am now."

Jon slowly edged towards Lord Stark and Erza, "What he says is true Lord Stark. From what I heard at the garrison, he was captured without any form of black cloak."

"He could have ditched it in order to avoid being caught." Theon suggested glancing at the other deserter, "Would've been the smart thing to do, unlike that idiot."

A muffled curse came from beneath the sack on the second prisoner's head.

"Trust me." Erza lowered her sword as did Lord Stark. She then pulled back her cloak and shifted the pauldron on her left arm, revealing a blue marking that was the exact same as the one on the man's chest, "I know him."

Theon and Ser Rodrik's eyes narrowed in confusion. Lord Stark frowned and let Ice fall to his side.

"Then he is guilty of assisting a member of the Night's Watch to desert." Ser Rodrik noted, "Just as grave a crime in my opinion."

"Good thing your opinion doesn't matter when it comes to the law." Erza snapped back causing the knight's face to redden.

"You dare to-"

"Enough!" Lord Stark rumbled before he shook his head and held out Ice to Theon. The boy hesitated before quickly removing the arrow from his bowstring and returning Ice to it's massive sheath, "You and I need to talk." He said to Erza before look at Ser Rodrik, "Another day, then their fates will be decided."

"Are you certain that is wise, my Lord?" Ser Rodrik asked.

An icy stare from Lord Stark silenced the knight.

"Right!" Ser Rodrik nodded nervously, "You heard Lord Stark, lads!" He waved at the guards with him, "Haul these two back to their cells."

As they grabbed Gray, the ice mage jerked against their grip as he tried to get closer to Erza.

"Hey Erza!" Gray called.

"I'll get this figured out." Erza replied calmly, "Just let me do the talking." She sighed and gulped, "I'll do everything I can. Then I'll come find you."

Gray nodded and surrendered to the guards that gripped his arms. As the guards strode away with their two prisoners, Erza marched to her horse. Waiting beside it, already saddled in his own horse, was Jon Snow.

"You're insane." He whispered to her.

"Maybe." Erza replied, "But hell will freeze over before I allow one of my family to be harmed."

Jon grimaced, "Hell may just do that." Erza's eyes cast him a deadly stare. But Jon was undisturbed, "After all," He spurred his horse forward, "Winter is coming."

….

Erza held her hands behind her back as Lord Stark stared out the window of his solar. She had been that way for the past ten minutes. Watching as the Lord of Winterfell silently stared out a frost encrusted window pane down at the castle below. His eyes following the movements of his children as they played in the yard. Sitting in a chair beside the desk was a very perturbed Maester Luwin.

The silence made Erza uncomfortable. It wasn't like Lord Stark to leave her waiting like this. He normally liked to conduct business as quickly and efficiently as possible. But now, now he was making her wait. And she didn't like it.

In fact, she was finally about to speak her mind when his mouth opened.

"I'm not sure whether to be impressed by the devotion you have to your family, or be infuriated by it." He muttered turning away from the window in order to face her, "Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"I have defended my family." Erza replied forcefully.

"You halted the King's Justice from being carried out." Maester Luwin argued back, "Any other Lord in Westeros would have ordered you killed where you stood." Erza grit her teeth.

"Luckily that is not how the Lords of the North do things." Lord Stark responded to Maester Luwin, causing the older man to nod as he remembered his place, "Still… this is not a good thing."

"And why not?" Erza asked, "Gray did nothing wrong. He is most likely disoriented and unaware of the situation he is in." Lord Stark sighed and turned to look out the window once again, "How was he supposed to know that the man he was helping was actually a criminal!?"

"Regardless of if he knew or not. He still broke the law." Lord Stark replied quietly, his mind clearly mulling over the situation as he spoke, "If a murderer claimed ignorance, does that make him not guilty of the crime?"

Erza opened or closed her mouth. She had no answer for that.

"Erza," Ned continued, "A deserter is the most dangerous form of criminal. Do you know why?"

She shook her head.

"They know their life is forfeit once they commit the act." He turned to face her, his hands spreading out over his desk as he leaned down to stare at her eye level, "A murderer has a chance to be acquitted in a trial. But a deserter does not, because others know of the oath they have taken. And they know when it is broken. Therefore, a deserter will do everything they can to avoid being caught. Whether that is thieving, killing, or taking hostages, he'll do what he can to escape his fate. That is why the ultimate punishment is given to them for the crime."

As he finished, Maester Luwin nodded his aged head in agreement.

"However," Lord Stark continued causing Maester Luwin to freeze, "This is a strange situation we find ourselves in, "Maester Luwin… is there a law governing the assistance of deserters?"

The old man's eyes narrowed as he reached back into his vast memory. He frowned and shook his head, "Not specifically. Most cases have it lumped in as simple desertion as well."

"So… it is not the law, but precedent that would dictate Gray Fullbuster's death?" Lord Stark asked.

Maester Luwin pursed his lips, "Yes my lord."

Ned nodded, "Very well then." He looked at Erza, "I cannot let Gray go unpunished."

"Lord Stark-" Erza began to argue.

"But I will not execute him…" Erza's heart jumped in her chest, "If I don't have to."

"What do you mean, my Lord?" Erza gulped.

"I propose… a compromise." Lord Stark looked out at his children in the yard again, "Erza… I am impressed by your devotion to protect your family. It settles my nerves to know that you are looking out for the children when I cannot. And I wish to keep you in my services. However, I know that if I were to order the execution of Gray Fullbuster, you would battle my men until you either escaped with him, or died."

Erza bowed her head then nodded in agreement.

"I cannot let Gray go unpunished. The law is the law, and despite his ignorance of it he still broke it. If I let one man go free for something like this, that will set a precedent that would be disastrous for my lands. We capture deserters from the Night's Watch all the time. If the common folk knew they could assist them without repercussions then we won't have any men remaining to guard the Wall.

So, what I propose, is that I execute the deserter of the Night's Watch and spare your friend." Erza sighed in relief, "As his punishment, he will take that man's place at the Wall."

Erza blinked, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Watch your tone, Miss Erza." Maester Luwin warned.

"Fuck your opinion of my tone!" Erza snapped before glaring at Lord Stark, "You said that men desert the Wall all of the time! How horrible is it for them to risk their lives to do that!?"

Lord Stark pursed his lips, "It's not a pleasant life by any means." He sat down in his seat, "But it is better than the current situation we find ourselves in. By sending Gray to the wall, he is allowed to live. You will also know where he is at all times, allowing you to easily find him once you do find the rest of your family and figure out a way to return home."

Erza's eyes narrowed. Ned could see she was weighing the plan in her mind.

"And… I could send word to my brother Benjen. He is First Ranger of the Night's Watch. He will keep a close eye on Gray. Make sure nothing terrible happens to him."

He could see she still wasn't entirely convince. Ned was about to speak more when Maester Luwin spoke up before him.

"Forgive my interruption, Lord Stark, but if I may say something to Miss Erza." Lord Stark nodded, "Erza," The old Maester continued, "You and I have been searching endlessly for your family. And now, you have stumbled on one of them. The deal Lord Stark has presented is incredibly generous given the circumstances." He sighed, "I can tell you are pondering if you could fight your way out of this. And if you had your full magical powers, as you have described them to us, you probably could." He leaned forward, "But you do not Erza. You are simply a woman with a sword. And any swordsman, no matter how skilled, cannot defeat an entire castle while dragging a prisoner with them who most likely isn't very skilled with a blade. Do. Not. Throw. Your. Life. Away. Erza." He pleaded, "You have done so much good here already. Don't let this end that."

Erza frown deepened. Ned could clearly see that she hated the position she was put in. Her hands were clenched tightly by her sides as she considered defiance once again. Then they relaxed and she sighed.

"Very well." She said in a barely audible whisper. She then raised her head to look at both Lord Stark and Maester Luwin, "But… what if he doesn't accept?"

Lord Stark pursed his lips, "Then justice will be done."

Erza paled then nodded.

"I shall go inform young Fullbuster." Maester Luwin stated.

"No." Erza raised her hand, "I'll do it. He'll take this better coming from me."

Maester Luwin nodded and returned to his seat as the young red haired knight quietly exited the room. Once she left, Lord Stark let out a loud sigh.

"That could have gone better." He remarked, rubbing his eyes.

"I'd say it went rather well." Maester Luwin replied.

Lord Stark shook his head, "No… it didn't." He leaned back in his chair, exhaustion clearly weighing him down, "I have lost her trust. I could see that in her eyes." He sighed again, "And I need her to trust me. To trust my decisions. We need all of the knights we can."

Maester Luwin nodded in understanding, "For winter is coming."

Lord Stark nodded, "Winter is coming."

 **And chapter! I had a blast writing this one! Originally I intended it to be a Gray, Erza combo chapter. But I feel like I would've rushed everything if I did that. And I do not want my chapters to be super long in length. I feel like that could hurt the pace of the story. So, the next chapter will be from Gray's perspective, which should be pretty interesting. I can't wait to continue writing this story! Anyways, let me know what you all think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	14. Gray II

**Hello again everyone! I'm home from work sick today, which sucked. But it gave me time to put the finishing touches on this chapter for you all! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Gray

He kept catching himself incessantly rubbing the back of his neck. And every time he did, he paused, cursed at himself, then let his arm fall to his side as he sat on the cold cell floor. Then his hand would reach up again. The thought of that massive sword cleaving his head from his shoulders plaguing his mind as he touched his neck.

It was too close. Even for him. He had been in plenty of battles as a wizard. Heck, the brawls in Fairy Tail itself had given him some of his nastier injuries. But rarely did he ever feel like his life was in mortal danger.

The first clue that he had was when his magic suddenly stopped working. That happened right around the time those soldiers had chased down him and Will. He tried to fight them off, only to find that his Ice Make wouldn't well… make anything. He could managed a light frost on his fingertips but that was about it. As they were dragged further south he found that the cold was starting to get to him more too. It didn't take him long to put two and two together. The loss of his magic was not only affecting his ability to cast spells, it was affecting him physically too. And that was the second clue that he was in deep trouble.

Never in his life had he felt cold, until he arrived in this backwards world. A world where helping a poor guy out resulted in him being led to his own execution at the hands of a grim looking man he had never met before. The entire time, he had been attempting to figure out a way to escape. To fight of these idiots and run for it. Run back towards that massive ice wall. His magic worked fine there, for some odd reason. He still couldn't quite figure that one out yet.

Even as they laid his head on that ridiculously hard block of wood, he was thinking. How to escape? Maybe I can overpower the man holding me down? Maybe this? Maybe that? Then he heard the sword cutting through the air. No other sound hit his ears. Just that hiss of metal. In that moment, Gray Fullbuster was certain that he was going to die.

Then he heard Erza. He saw her rush towards him. Saw her block the brutal swing that the grim man intended for Gray's head. She saw him argue briefly with the man before managing to convince him to spare his life. And now… now he was back here, in this damn cell, a whimpering Will huddled a few feet away from him.

A small sob left Will's chest causing Gray to frown in annoyance.

"Would you shut up already." He muttered, still rubbing the back of his neck.

"You don't understand." Will hissed back, his head rising from behind his knees, "We are still going to die. Whether by Lord Stark's hand or the Others, we are going to die."

Gray frowned, "I thought those things back North were called White Walkers?"

Apparently, Will took a genuine question as Gray making light of the situation they were both stuck in. The disgraced Night's Watchman scowled at Gray, "Two different names for the same evil."

Evil. Gray forced himself to stop rubbing his neck and he rested his head back against the cold stone wall.

Those things… the Others, or White Walkers… Will was right. They were evil. He could feel it in his bones. It was the same feeling he had whenever he pictured Deliora.

A cold shiver rushed up his spine at the thought of that terrible demon. And his hand rubbed his neck.

"How can you be so sure?" Gray asked, hoping to distract himself from the dismal situation.

"Sure of what?" Will muttered as he rubbed his hands together, trying to stay warm.

"That we are going to die?"

Will's gaze hardened at him, "How are you sure we won't?"

Gray pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes, "I'm sure we won't." He replied, "Erza is an old friend of mine. And apparently, she convince this Stark guy not to kill us-"

"For now." Will interrupted.

Gray nodded, "Fine. Whatever. For now, we aren't dead." He rubbed the back of his neck, "So… instead of whimpering and crying 'oh poor me', how about we figure a way out of this mess?"

Will's blue eyes stared at him. And Gray stared back.

"Well…" Will mumbled.

"Well…" Gray mumbled back.

"You got any ideas?" Will asked.

"That's why I was looking at you!" Gray exclaimed before groaning, "I was hoping you did."

Will shrugged. Then he jumped as the iron door that led down to the dungeons of Winterfell clanged open. He scurried back to the corner, the chains he was attached too scraping loudly against the stone floor. Meanwhile, Gray just sighed and sat against the wall, not moving an inch.

"You act like they won't see you." Gray commented as he heard armored footsteps approaching.

"A criminal can hope." Will mumbled back as he attempted to sink into the cell's shadows.

Truth was, Gray hope they wouldn't see them. Just from the sound of the footsteps, Gray could tell it was a guard of some sort. Which meant their fates were decided. Or maybe they weren't. Maybe the guard was just passing by. Checking on his two prisoners. Not coming to drag them back to the block. He let out a quiet breath that shuddered in his lungs.

 _It'd suck to die here._ He bowed his head and chuckled a little, _Cause when I met Natsu in the afterlife, he'd never let me hear the end of it._ His eyes widened in realization. _Oh! The universe is a cruel bitch if that's what it plans to do to me!_

"Here you are miss." A gruff voice remarked.

"Thank you."

Gray's head snapped upright. Erza was standing in the open doorway to his and Will's cell.

As soon as the guard had left, Erza rushed up to Gray and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank god I was there!" She exclaimed as her strong arms squeezed him tightly.

Gray's eyes bulged, "Erza!" He gasped, "Can't... Breathe!"

"Oh!" Erza quickly pulled away, "Sorry!" She then bowed her head, "Please hit me as punishment."

"Eh?" Gray glanced over at Will, who stared at Erza with a completely baffled expression, "I don't think now is a very good time for that Erza." He then held up his bound hands, "Kind of a life or death situation here."

Erza blinked, "Right! I'm just-" She sighed and smiled sadly, "I'm so glad to see you. And you're… somewhat safe I guess."

Gray quirked an eyebrow. This was not like Erza at all. Sure, they were friends, close friends even. But for her to be worried about him like this well… that didn't feel right.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Erza ran a hand through her hair, "Well… we are in a bit of a… situation."

"You must be japing." Will remarked sarcastically.

Gray looked confused while Erza flashed Will one of her infamous glares that sent the fearful man scurrying back to his corner.

"Japing?"

"Joking." Erza replied.

"Oh!" Gray nodded, "Weird."

Erza nodded, "Very." She then sighed, "Well… let's get right to the point for this." She gulped, "So… we are in a different world than Earthland."

Gray nodded casually, "Yeah. Kinda gathered that from talking to Mr. Whimper over there." Meanwhile, Will stared wide eyed at the pair.

"And if you are here, and I am here, then that means the others are here too." Erza reasoned.

"And we have no idea where they are."

"Pretty much."

"Is that why you were freaking out over me a moment ago?"

Erza pursed her lips then nodded. Gray completely understood now. Ever since he could remember, Erza hated being alone. Even when she forcibly kept herself from others in the guild when she had first joined, she would cry when no one was looking. He was the first person to go up to her and basically call her a friend. After that, Erza was happy. No longer alone.

And now she was in a completely foreign world with the possibility that once again, she was alone. Sure, she wasn't a scared little girl anymore. But still, loneliness tends to make one act out of character.

"Well…" Gray sighed, "One down in the search." He joked causing Erza to laugh aloud for a brief moment, "Any clues as to where everyone else is?"

Erza shook her head.

"Not even any massive explosions?" Gray asked.

"Nothing." Erza replied.

Gray pursed his lips, "Damn Flame Brain! The one time we need him to be loud and obnoxious and he's suddenly quiet." He let out a long sigh, "So… that leads us to the problem we are in right now." He raised his chained hands again, "What's gonna happen next?"

The first clue for him should've been her long silence. The second should've been the deep breath she took, as if trying to calm herself down. Whether she was angry or scared he couldn't tell. The final clue should have been the guilt he saw written on her face. Erza was almost never guilty about anything.

"Well shit." Gray muttered before Erza could open her mouth, "How fucked are we?"

"Very…" Erza replied quietly, "I… managed to talk Lord Stark out of killing you."

Will's eyes widened in surprised and he smiled at Gray, "Great!" He grinned. Then he saw Erza's eyes dart over to him. Sad eyes that made the deserter's heart sink, "Oh…" Will gulped, "Only him."

Erza nodded, "Yes… only you Gray."

Gray narrowed his eyes, "Why!? Hell… this ain't right!"

"I couldn't agree more!" Erza replied, "But I can only do so much. It's not like I can flout Fairy Tail's reputation as a powerful guild anymore. Not in this world." She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, "I tried to convince him to just let you both go quietly but…" She let out a frustrated growl, "His damn sense of justice." she finished with a mutter.

Gray gulped, "I really don't like where this is going."

"You're going to replace him at the Wall." Erza finished, "As… punishment for helping him desert."

Gray's eyes widened, "What?" He remarked, unsure if he heard her correctly.

"You are being forced to 'take the black'." Erza continued, "That's what they call getting sent to the wall here." She bowed her head, "And apparently that's also what they call justice here." Here hands gripped into tight fists at her sides.

Gray grit his teeth together. Then he started to feel himself shake. And his hand rubbed the back of his neck.

"Gray?"

"I don't want to go back there." Gray replied with a shaky breath. He looked up at a surprised Erza, "You don't know what's up there." He gulped, "There was something… I'm not sure what it was. But," He looked at Will, "Will called it a White Walker." Another trembling breath left Gray's lips, "I haven't been that scared since I saw Deliora again on Galuna Island."

Erza's eyes widened in realization. The demon Deliora was the same monster that destroyed Gray's home. And when he confronted it a second time, it killed his master. Seeing it for a third time on Galuna Island had put such tremendous fear in Gray, that he was nearly incapable of doing anything to help the rest of his team against the crazed wizards trying to free the demon from it's icy prison. For something else to strike terror in Gray like that again... it made Erza ache to see her friend so afraid.

"Gray-"

"Is there anything else we can do?" Gray asked abruptly.

Erza's jaw tightened, "No." She replied bluntly, "He won't allow any alternatives. The only other option we have is-"

"Lord Stark executes us both." Will muttered. He shook his head, "Gray… you may not like me very much. But…. please. I'm a dead man. I knew that as soon as I chose not to return to Castle Black. Even if I managed to get back, Commander Mormont would have my head on a spike. Either way, my life is forfeit. But _you,_ " He stared hard at Gray, "You were never a brother of the Night's Watch. In their eyes, you'd be no different than another recruit." He leaned closer to both Gray and Erza, "You saw what I saw. You fought it. You know _they_ are out there." He gulped, "You can warn them. Prepare them. Make sure the Wall stays strong."

Gray looked fearfully at Will before shaking his head.

"Gray!" Erza snapped, causing the ice make mage to nearly jump out of his skin, "I won't let you die! And so help me," He started to shake with fear as Erza menaced over him, "If you die because you and Lord Stark decided to be stubborn idiots then I will… I will…" She shook with fury before yelling in frustration at the top of her lungs. Once she finished screaming she flopped back against the wall of the cell, slid down, and sat beside Gray, "I have no idea what I would do."

There was a double meaning to that. Gray knew it. It wasn't her admitting that she wouldn't know how to punish him for not listening. Hell… death was punishment enough. It was her admitting that she wouldn't know what to do if she lost one of her guild mates. He could see the anxiety in her eyes. She was lost right now. She had no clue what to do in a world that suddenly decided to rear its cruel head at her and her family.

"Gray…" Erza gulped and stared hard at her oldest friend, "Promise me, right now, you will not die at the Wall."

Gray gulped.

"Promise me, Gray Fullbuster!" She snapped, gripping him hard on the shoulders.

"I-I promise!" He managed to stammer out.

Erza let go of his shoulders and let out a shuddering breath before embracing him once again.

"If you feel in danger at all. You know I'm here at Winterfell. You come and find me. And we'll fight the entire continent of Westeros if we have to get us and the others home."

Gray nodded and she let go of him.

"I'll go tell Lord Stark you agreed." She remarked before quickly leaving the room. Gray thought his eyes must be deceiving him. Because he swore that there were tears dripping down her cheeks.

The iron door to the dungeon opened then slammed loudly shut. Leaving both Will and Gray alone once again. Only this time, Will was no longer whimpering. He only stared at Gray for a moment and narrowed his eyes.

"I don't recall you actually agreeing to this." He remarked with a wry grin on his lips.

Gray's eyes widened and he stared slack jawed at the condemned man, who now wanted to distract himself from his fate with jokes. Then Gray's mind started reeling again. Erza had done it once again! Again! She managed to force him to do what she wanted! Only this time, she didn't beat him up to do it. She used words and his own hesitation against him! He smacked his head with his hands and groaned.

"Well…" Will's bound hands gripped Gray's and he shook them, "Welcome to the Night's Watch… brother."

 **And chapter! A bit of a shorter chapter. LIke I said in the previous one, this was meant to be tagged onto Erza's chapter but I decided to break the two up so it wouldn't be as long.**

 **Yes… Gray is being sent to the Wall. Now I know you all are thinking… this is stupid. This is a stupid reason to send him there. And yes, it is. That was my intention. I got pissed at Lord Stark for being a stupid idiot as I wrote that bit. It's not supposed to be a justified reason to send him to the wall. It's supposed to be cruel and unjust, just like the rest of Westeros. There's no such thing as trials (Unless you are highborn but even then… just look at Tyrion's trials in the show or books if you want an example of Westeros's court system). Individual Lords, Kings, and Knights deal justice how they see fit. And with Lord Stark being a very justice driven character he will not disobey the law and see that it is carried out regardless of if it is fair or not. And in this case it is not. So yeah, there's that explanation.**

 **It's going to be interesting where I go from here. Right now I'm debating whether or not to send Jon to the wall still or do something else. I have another thing in mind but… I'm not entirely sure yet. I'll have to think on it some more. But anyways, let me know what young guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	15. Levy III

**Alright… I'm going to be honest here… this is a rough chapter. I'm warning you all ahead of time and I already know I'm gonna receive some serious flack for it. I have my reasons for doing this. This isn't brutal for brutality sake. I am planning this story out very thoroughly and carefully. The actions taken by the characters will have consequences both good and very, very bad throughout this story, and certainly later down the line. I only ask, that if you don't like it, please do not be hateful in your criticism. With that being said, here is the next chapter, in a Song of Fairies.**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Levy

The Silence was silent. Not a noise but the creaking of wood, and the gentle rocking of the ship as it bobbed in the harbor of Yunkai, along the coast of the infamous Slaver's Bay. The crew had emptied the Silence, save for a group of ten mute men tasked with guarding Euron Greyjoy's precious ship. The one artifact in this world that he actually cared for more than any other.

Well… the second artifact in this world that he actually cared for. Levy was convinced that if anyone else sat in Euron's red velvet chair, he wouldn't just rip their tongue out, he's rip their throat out and yank on their esophagus until their entrails came pouring out of their skulls.

She shuddered. These thoughts. Such vile and bloody thoughts. They were starting to dance through her mind more often. And it made Levy sick to her stomach to the point where she felt like retching in the small cell she occupied in the Silence's brig. It was as if this ship, the very air in it, was a poison to the mind. A poison that compelled men to think the most vile of thoughts, to desire the most violent of actions, and the find joy in the greatest of sins. More than once, Levy thought of killing someone on this ship. And more than once, she had to smack her face with her hand in order to snap her out of the bloody fog that invaded her mind.

That wasn't her. That was not Levy McGarden. She wasn't a pirate, or killer, and certainly not some Westerosi Lord's daughter (though Euron and the crew of the Silence did not know better). She was a wizard of Fairy Tail. A guild sworn to protect and defend the innocent. And a guild that saw the taking of a life, even if it was that of a sworn enemy, as total taboo. As Master Makarov always preached, yesterday's enemy can be today's greatest friend.

However, Levy had a great deal of difficulty imagining the brigands that now occupied her daily life as friends. The mute ones stared at her with absolute scorn. They despised her. Despised how Euron treated her gently. Or as gently as he could. Levy had come to believe that the man barely knew the meaning of the word. And the ones that could speak, that volunteered to come into Euron's service and had not angered him to the point of having their tongues ripped out, spoke callously to her. They threw filthy rags and buckets of water at her feet, ordering her to work.

"Clean the deck!" They would yell, "Now below, clean the quarters!" "Fluff the sheets woman!" "Fetch the pot of boiling water for the cook!" "Clean the dishes." What little they actually had at least.

And never did they give her rest, until Euron took her into his cabin, and she worked for him personally. She had actually started to somewhat look forward to the evenings. When Euron retired to his personal cabin, and she followed him in, they would talk. And Levy was shocked by Euron Greyjoy's demeanor.

Granted, he was still a heartless monster. He would speak with glee of having spilt the entrails of so many men, that he could make whole new ropes for his black mast out of the guts. He would boast of having… 'taken'... so many woman when he plundered merchant ships, that he wouldn't be surprised if he had a bastard in each one of the Free Cities, the Slave cities, and the Dothraki Sea to boot.

But… he would also engage Levy in some of the most intelligent conversations she had ever had with another human being. The only other ones coming close being when she would discuss novels, books, and other intellectual exploits with her good friend, Lucy Heartfilia.

They would talk a lot about home. What their homes were like. Levy had crafted a very convincing lie about her home. She had even managed to convince Euron that the village of Magnolia was a real place in this world, but so small and so far from the coast that no mapper had bothered to mark it when they surveyed the Reach. She spoke glowingly of her father (who she described like Master Makarov), as well as her friends. And he would listen quietly, soaking in the information like a sponge.

Then he would start talking. And she would ask questions. Most of them about the Iron Islands. If Levy were to be honest, the culture fascinated her. An entire land, nearly kingdom, comprised of men who were basically all pirates. Yet they had laws among each other. They had customs, holidays, holy days, and hierarchies. One of the most important facts she had gathered from her chats with Euron Greyjoy was that the captain of a Reaving ship was the King of that ship. Even if the Lord of the Iron Islands himself was aboard that ship, he could not belay the orders of that ship's captain.

"Once upon the open sea, all are equal in the eyes of the Drowned God." He would say, "Save for the Captain, who holds the lives of all of the other men aboard his vessel."

It was a surprisingly deep aspect he took on that subject. And to Levy's immense surprise, despite Euron Greyjoy's cruel nature, he did seem to care for his crew. After all, he always let his men take the spoils of their conquests. He never took any for himself. He liked to say he didn't care for the material things in this world. But Levy liked to believe that maybe, he wasn't as heartless as the other prisoners aboard the Silence made him out to be.

Other conversations captured Levy's entire imagination. And she was greatly looking forward to following up with one now. In her mind, she kept hearing Master Makarov's words. "Today's enemies can become tomorrow's friends." With how her and Euron talked at night, perhaps that proverb rang true, even in another world.

The sun had set over the city of Yunkai, and she could see, through the small porthole in the brig, the Ironborn returning back to their vessel. At the head of the column, strutted Euron Greyjoy, chest puffed out, shoulders rolled back, legs taking long, confident, lanky steps up the wooden ramp and back onto his Kingdom.

She waited a few moments. Then the door to the brig opened. The other prisoners, long ago made mutes, huddled in the corners of their cells. Too terrified to face any of the Ironborn. Levy however, drew closer to the door made of iron bars that shimmered from being cleaned earlier in the day. She had done that magnificent work. It had taken her over two hours just to remove the barnacles that had begun to build up along the floorboards.

The mute crewman didn't seem to notice nor care though. He simply jammed the iron key into the lock, twisted it until it clanked loudly, then swung the door open. He grabbed Levy roughly by her upper arm, and half guided, half dragged her up to Euron Greyjoy's personal quarters. Meanwhile, the Silence lumbered out of Yunkai's harbor and back to sea.

Once inside, the mute shoved her in, and quietly shut the door behind him. Euron Greyjoy stood at his map table, hands splayed over the yellowing parchment as he mumbled to himself. Levy remained quiet by the door, not moving until he commanded her too.

"The Summer sea would be good for this time of year." He mumbled, rubbing his thick black bear, "Plenty of traders from the Jade Sea will be trying to cross over to Slaver's Bay. That'll make for good plunder." He nodded and sighed before taking both ends of the maps and folding it.

He rolled his shoulders, the joints popping. Then he turned on his heel and strode over to his velvet chair. Once he collapsed in its soft embrace, he waved his hand at Levy. She quickly moved over to him and removed his boots.

"Make them shine, woman." He grunted, as he always did.

"Of course." Levy replied, taking the water clogged leather boots over to a small wooden stool where she would sit and polish them once again.

She grabbed the brush and black polish and began scrubbing, doing her best to remove any stains that marred the perfect shine she was attempting to make. The sound of a bottle being uncorked filled the room. A quick glance over at Euron told Levy that he had cracked open a bottle of wine. One he no doubt bought for himself while at the markets replenishing his owns ships supply stores.

He chugged down a large gulp, sighing with satisfaction one the bottle left his lips. His one good eye glanced at Levy.

"Care for a taste, _Lady_ MacGarden."

Levy wrinkled her nose, "No thank you, Captain." She replied, "Wine is not something I drink."

"Oh really?" Levy paused when Euron responded. "So… what elegant concoctions do you like to," He took another swig before continuing, "indulge in, _Lady_ MacGarden."

Levy heard it again. He called her Lady McGarden. This was the first time he had ever referred to her by such a title. And every time he spoke that word, it left his lips in a long drawl. As if he was putting too much emphasis on it.

"I don't drink." Levy said, caution evident in her voice.

"Hm." Euron bobbed his head, "A lady of Westeros who does not drink. A peculiar thing, I must say."

Levy bit her lip, "F-father won't let me." She stammered quickly, "He says, 'Alcohol slows the mind and-'"

"And an avid partaker in liquor said this?" Euron replied quickly, "I seem to recall, that you said your father, this Makarov, was quite the drinker."

"Well… he may be." Levy remarked as she resumed her polishing. Although now, she wasn't scrubbing as vigorously. She could feel a pit forming in her stomach as a horrible feeling began to take hold of her, "But he also liked to say, 'Do as I say Levy, not as I do.'"

Euron nodded, "A very fatherly thing to say. No doubt parents wish for their children to avoid making the same mistakes they did."

Levy smiled, "A very true statement." She could feel a silent sigh of relief leave her lungs. Euron was asking a lot of questions tonight. Very personal questions that she now found herself hard pressed to answer.

She heard him take another swig from the bottle, "Are you certain you do not want a taste." He remarked with a small smirk as she finished his right boot and moved on to his left, "I assure you, wine is a remarkable substance."

Levy quirked an eyebrow, doing her best to move the conversation as far away from personal questions as possible, "How so?" She asked.

"It has a tendency to… break a man's inhibitions. And break them very thoroughly." Euron said with a shimmer crossing his smiling eye, "And when a man's inhibitions are broken, they can accidently reveal many… secrets."

Levy felt her chest tighten as she suddenly paused in her work.

"We talk about parenting lessons, _Lady_ MacGarden. Yet… I must ask you," Levy turned her head towards Euron Greyjoy, doing her best to hide the sudden, instinctive fear that was now building up in her. "Did your father ever tell you the consequences of lying?"

Levy froze. Everything froze. Her heart skipped several beats. She felt her throat begin to constrict as fear grasped her by the neck.

"You see…" Euron set the bottle of wine down on the table beside his chair, "I decided to take a stroll through Yunkai's famous markets. I desired a delicious bottle of wine. And… I did consider sharing it with you. Since you are _,_ " he lowered his gaze at her, "A _lady_ of Westeros. No doubt used to the comforts of luxury and pomp." He drew back and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. His fingers tapped against each other, "And it just so happens, that I stumble across a wine merchant, hocking his Arbor reds and golds. Tell me, _Lady_ MacGarden… where do you think he was from?"

Levy gulped. Her breaths became quick in her lungs.

"I-I-"

"I'll answer for you." Euron growled, menace now filling his voice, "He was from the Reach." The color drained from Levy's face, "So… naturally, I wanted to purchase a great wine you would be familiar with. After all, a place as prosperous as Magnolia would no doubt attract the finest of merchants." He uncrossed his legs and chuckled, "So…" He laughed some more, "When I inquired about Magnolia and what the Lord and Ladies preferred to drink there, this merchant gave me the most puzzled look any man could possibly create." He leaned forward in his seat, "Can you guess what he said next?"

Levy's hands began to shake. Her hands tightened around the brush and polish. Knuckles turning white from the strain.

"He-he-" Levy began to stammer, tears filling her eyes.

"HE SAID THERE WAS NO SUCH PLACE AS MAGNOLIA!" Euron roared bursting to his feet and storming towards Levy.

Levy screamed. The brush and polish falling from her hands and clattering against the wooden floor, staining it black.

Euron grabbed her by the neck and raised her in the air. His large hand tightening around her throat. Levy's eyes bulged from her skull as she gasped for breath and attempted to scream some more. All the while, Euron's smiling eye shimmered with fury.

The edges of her vision began to turn black. Levy clawed furiously at Euron's hands, to the point where her nails began to leav gashes along his fingers, knuckles, and wrists. Then the world seemed to go cold. Her body began to slow down. All strength in muscles started to fade and her arms now just pawed at Euron's tight grip.

The dark ring grew larger. She felt the last bits of oxygen slipping from her. Just as her arms were about to fall limply to her sides, Euron let go of her throat.

She slid down the side of the wall, air rushing into her lungs, causing Levy to nearly choke on her breath. She barely had time to recover before Euron gripped her by her blue hair and dragged her across the door towards the door.

Levy struggled and cried. Tears streaming down her face. The entire way to the door, she was furiously waving her right hand. Trying anything to make her magic work. To conjure up some form of her solid script magic. To create something that could help her defend herself.

But nothing came.

Euron threw the door open. Rain poured down in sheets onto the deck of the Silence. But somehow, Levy could see, through her bleary vision, that the crew had made a ring around the mast of the ship. The torrential rain and crashing waves of the open sea not bothering them in the slightest. Two mutes were waiting with coiled ropes. And the other prisoners were kneeling beside them.

Euron growled then threw her at the mast. She hit the wooden beam with a loud crack. A wail of pain erupted from her as she felt several ribs shift inside of her.

"TIE HER UP!" Euron bellowed through the howling wind.

The two mutes with ropes grasped her and slammed her upright against mast. The cords of rope fastened tightly around her hands and ankles before they strapped her down against the mast. Euron sauntered around the beam so she could see him. A wide grin now etched on his face.

"BRING ME THE TAILS!" He barked.

A roar erupted from the members of the crew that could still speak. Through the sound of rain pelting against the ship, Levy could hear the sound of metal objects clinking together. Her eyes widened in terror as she saw a horrifying object being placed in Euron Greyjoy's waiting hand.

A cat o'nine tails.

She shook her head, "N-no!" Her finger waving frantically in the air as she desperately tried to call on her magic, "Please no!"

"It appears, _Lady_ MacGarden!" Euron shouted in a mocking tone, "That your _Lord_ Father never taught you the consequences of lying!" He ran a hand through the shards that lined the leather cords of the wicked, nine tailed whip, "Others, I would rip their tongues out! As you know, it's a favorite past time of mine! But… where we will be taking you," He gripped the whip with both hands, "You will need your tongue." He nodded and the mutes roughly gripped the back of the dress Levy wore and tore it open.

"I'M SORRY!" Levy wailed, finger still furiously writing invisible words in the air, "PLEASE DON'T-"

The leather tails hissed through the air and cracked against her bare skin. She screamed until her voice was hoarse and her back arched as the weapon dug into her skin.

And the crew roared in approval.

"Gentlemen!" Euron barked, riling up his crew even more, "How many lashes does lying deserve!?" He gripped it tightly in both hands again and struck her. Another howl left Levy's lips and her legs buckled beneath her.

And they roared.

"How many lashes… does wasting my time deserve!?"

Another strike, another nine dug into her. And a silent scream erupted from her mouth, her lungs burning too much from the previous screams to even be capable of making a sound.

And they roared.

"How many lashes does staining my floor with shoe polish deserve!?" Euron cackled.

She barely felt the fourth time he hit her with the cat o'nine tails. The gashes in her body burned from the rain pelting against her. But now, her body was breaking down. Her mind, flooded by the pain, began to shut down. Her eyes drooping from the sudden loss of fight.

She didn't hear his fifth declaration. Her entire world was now only pain.

Her vision began to blacken out. The cords around her loosed and the mutes gripped her. They dragged her along the deck, small streams of her own blood mixing with the rain water.

They all roared.

And her finger stopped waving.

 **And chapter. I can honestly say, along with Wendy, Levy may be in THE worst spot imaginable for her character. But, where Wendy is in a much more manipulative and psychological danger, Levy is in very real mortal danger. Euron Greyjoy is an evil, vengeful, and unpredictable man. And it's on full display here. Unfortunately, she relaxed around him. Fairy Tail has a naive belief that all enemies can become friends (NOT BASHING THEM WHEN I SAY THAT BY THE WAY! IT WORKS IN THE CONTEXT OF THEIR WORLD). But in the world of Westeros, that can be a very dangerous way to interact with people. And now, she's paid the price for lowering her guard. It's a lesson she won't soon forget. And a lesson that I assure you, she will repay to Euron in full much later down the line in this story.**

 **Anyways, the next chapter will be a bit more lighthearted (We have had some grim ones lately). Most likely we will jump back over to Natsu. Or we will get our first Lucy chapter. We'll see which gets put down first.**

 **Anyways, let me know what you all think. Have a nice day!**


	16. Erza V

**Hello everybody! I am so sorry for the wait on a new chapter! I had to go out of town at the last minute this past weekend and totally forgot to bring my laptop with me… so yeah, I'm a forgetful idiot at times. Also, a bit of a liar it seems. I mentioned doing Natsu next at the end of last chapter, and while I did get that chapter started, this one came to me and I had to get it down on paper. It felt to good to not write it immediately. So here's another chapter! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

The door to Sansa's room burst open, causing the young girl to jump up in her bed and flick one of the oil lamps on her nightstand a light.

"Sansa!"

Sansa Stark, the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark rubbed her sleepy blue eyes then let her slender arms fall to her lap.

"What are you yelling about at this hour, She-man." She muttered sleepily, her dainty voice barely a hush in the night air.

There was a pause of silence. A pause so deafening that it shook Sansa awake, causing the auburn haired girl to realize the gravity of the mistake she just made.

She-man was the name she had given to that hedge knight father had brought into the castle, that Erza Scarlet. Or, she believed Erza Scarlet to be some form of hedge knight. As to how she became one and why her Lord Father even allowed someone of such low born folk to be the personal bodyguard to his own children still boggled the thirteen year old's mind.

She would constantly whisper with her good friend Jeyne Poole about the peculiarity of the She-man. And both would snicker at the nickname before gossiping to each other about the woman's possible origins. Maybe she had been some tavern wench who decided to purchase a rudimentary sword and fool some highborn into giving her a position. But that would not have been possible, for Sansa's father was not foolish enough to fall for some wench's farce. Sansa had then suggested that maybe she was actually a man dressed a woman. Or perhaps a delusional fool from a band of mummer's that decided she wanted to now play as a knight. But both eventually settled on the She-man actually being some sort of hedge knight after both Sansa and Jeyne witnessed her skill with a blade in the yard.

And that memory of Erza's frightening devastation of her half brother, Jon Snow, in the castle yard triggered fear inside of Sansa. For she had made the grave mistake of forgetting her carefully practiced courtesies and had let the nickname slip from her lips and into the ears of the red headed demon standing in the shadows of her door.

Her teeth began to chatter as the silence was finally broken.

"What did you call me?"

Sansa stared petrified at Erza Scarlet, the oil lamp in the knight's raised hand causing haunting shadows to dance over her terrifying glare.

"N-nothing." Sansa stammered.

"Oh really!?" Erza hissed in reply, her gaze narrowing at Sansa.

Perhaps she really didn't hear her. Maybe Sansa had said it just enough under her breath that the She-man failed to hear. Already, she was reciting prayers to the Seven in her mind. Praying that Erza Scarlet really hadn't heard her.

She saw the She-man shrug, her armor lifting with soft clinks of metal before her shoulders fell.

"Very well then." Her gaze lightened and the sinister shadows fell away from her face, leaving Sansa less petrified than she was prior, "I have a question for you?"

Sansa groaned, "Can it wait until the morning?"

"No." Erza replied stiffly, "Where is Bran?"

"What do you mean where is-" Sansa sucked in a sharp breath, "Bran's gone?"

She saw the She-Man nod.

Sansa could hardly believe her luck. Maybe, this was the situation that would cause father to dismiss this lowborn excuse for a knight and actually bring a true knight into their service. Someone like Aemon the Dragonknight, or even Ser Serywn of the Mirror Shield to protect his daughters and train his sons. How she would love to have a true knight be her guardian. It would be like all of the incredible stories she heard the singers say when they visited the castle. Just the thought of it made her heart flutter in her chest.

"Sansa!" Erza snapped the girl out of her sleepy day dream, "I need to know where-"

"I don't know." Sansa shrugged innocently, "Ask someone else and let me sleep." Her oil lamp flickered out and she rested her head back against her pillows.

Erza's right eye twitched for a moment before she let out a long sigh, "Very well," She turned away from Sansa's chambers. Sansa thought she had left when she heard the She-man say one last thing just loud enough for Sansa to overhear.

"Spoiled little brat." Erza began to march down the hall, her lamp light flickering away from Sansa's open door, "Call me a She-Man again and I'll-" And her words faded with the last of the lamp light. But Sansa remained wide awake.

….

Arya padded quietly across the rug covered floor at the base of her bed. The morning was coming soon. But despite the sun not even being above the horizon, Arya Stark, the youngest daughter of Lord and Lady Stark padded around her dark room, as awake as she would have been if the sun sat high overhead in the sky.

She had not bothered to comb the knots out of her rough hair, nor brush her teeth, or even call one of the servants to assist in dressing her for the day. Instead, the eleven year old scrambled across her room to the wardrobe, flung it open with all of the silence of a tourney, and began rummaging through her clothes, finally deciding to don the riding leathers and a small jerkin she had… procured… from one of the stable boys.

She did this quite often actually. Awake long before anyone else in the castle and sneak out of her room. She was so slight that normally, the guards that were on the night watch never noticed her slinking through the castle shadows and out of the walls to go exploring. And when the residents of the castle did finally notice, usually it was father or Septa Mordane who did, the guards would scour the castle and small village for her. And she would treat it like a game, hiding from house to house, shop to shop, eventually making her way back to the castle gate, her face and hands covered in grime and mud, a bright smile always across her lips.

And this dawn was a perfect one for her adventures. The sky above had been clear all night. Not a cloud had covered the stars or moon. The air was crisp, but not an overwhelming chill, meaning she could explore to her heart's content without worrying about frost. Her smile widened as she finished tightening the jerkin over her skinny body. Her hands flung her window open and she place a foot onto the ledge.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She froze, then glanced behind her to see Ser Erza Scarlet standing in her doorway, lamp in hand.

She liked to call Erza Scarlet, Ser Erza. After all, that's what she was. At least to Arya, she was a true knight, though no one else in the castle thought so. Which puzzled the young girl, because Erza would no doubt best anyone in the castle with a blade. Maybe Father could challenge her but… she shook that thought away. No, Ser Erza was too skilled. So fast, so powerful, quick on her feet. She followed her own mind and heart and never allowed anyone to speak down to her as if she was simply a woman. Not even her father, Lord Stark.

Arya wanted to be just like her.

She had always been a willful girl, as Septa Mordane, the old crone who was her teacher, always said. She liked to be rebellious. To not act like a lady and instead run about the castle as if she was one of the stable boys. She liked to play with the wooden swords, shoot arrows when no one was watching, even pretend that she was a knight when the Septa was not around. Any things that a _lady_ should do did not interest her. Especially sewing. By the seven how she hated using those needles!

So when Ser Erza stumbled across her about to embark on one of her adventures through the castle, Arya did not tremble in fear. Instead, she gave Ser Erza a sheepish grin.

"Getting some fresh air." She replied.

Ser Erza frowned at that, "Not tonight you aren't."

"Oh!" Arya groaned before taking her foot off of the stone ledge and shuttering her window, "Why not!? Tonight is perfect!"

"Because I can't go with you this time." Erza remarked, walking casually over to Arya's beside and lighting a lamp, allowing the room to be lit by flickering orange light, "And, the last time you snuck out-"

"I didn't sneak." Arya retorted.

Erza nodded, " _Sure_ you didn't." She glanced at Arya who simply folded her hands behind her back and leaned to a fro in place, "As I was saying, the last time you _didn't_ sneak out, your father had the entire household guard scouring the village only for you to be found in that old run down tower here at the castle."

"You mean the Burned Tower." Arya corrected, stepping back over to her bed and taking a seat.

"Yes, that one!" Erza snapped her fingers, "Everyone searched for hours only for you to be found not far from your own room." She frowned, "Do you remember what Lord Stark thought of that?"

Arya pursed her lips, "Yes."

"So it's probably a good idea not to go running off again without someone looking out for you, right?"

Arya nodded, her hair falling over her eyes as she did so.

"I'm glad we agree." Erza smiled, "Now, question." Arya perked up, "Where is Bran?"

Arya blinked, "Bran is gone?" She could hardly believe it. Bran never did that! Ever! He was mother's perfect child. The only thing he did that upset her Lady mother was, "Climbing!" Arya exclaimed, "He has to be climbing somewhere for some reason."

Erza's face blanched, "Climbing? At this hour?"

Arya shrugged, "It's the only thing I can think of."

Erza bit her lip and clenched her fist, "Damn it all!" She hissed jumping to her feet and storming out of the room, "Why didn't I think of that!?"

As Arya's door quietly closed behind Ser Erza, she sat innocently on her bed. Then she flicked the lamp off, rushed over to her window, and started a new adventure.

….

"Bran!" Erza called as she reached a section of the castle known as the Godswood.

She had never actually been here before, though she had seen it from afar. The Godswood was apparently where the Stark's worshiped deities known as the old gods, or the gods of the forest. The large wood nestled in the heart of the castle walls was made of massive white trees with crimson leaves forming a dense canopy. Gnarled roots rose and fell in the soft earth while fallen leaves crunched beneath Erza's boots.

This place had a peculiar feeling to it. A feeling that made goose skin form on Erza's body. It was as if this place was… alive. She felt like the tree's themselves were looking at her, giving her cold stares. Judging her, examining to see whether or not she was worthy of setting foot in their presence. She imagined that if they had faces, their expressions would be similar to that of Lord Stark's. Grim and foreboding. Befitting of a land as hard and harsh as the North. It set the red haired knight on edge.

"Bran!" She called again.

Before she had been met with silence, but this time, she heard branches rustle above her. She quickly whipped her head up and saw the young, cheerful face of Bran Stark staring back at her. His vivid blue eyes wide awake as he hovered over her from a large branch.

"Hello, Ser Erza!" He grinned.

"I'm not a Ser." Erza chuckled lightly before placing her hands on her hips, "What are you doing up there? At this hour?"

Bran glanced at his hands, "Um… climbing." He replied in a matter of fact tone.

Erza sighed, "Well I can see that! But why?" Erza raised a hand before Bran could respond, "If you say, because you like climbing, I will reach up there and yank you down from those branches myself!"

Bran sealed his mouth closed. Pondered what to say for a moment before grinning mischievously at Erza.

"Because I like climbing." And he disappeared into the leaves.

"Oh you little shit." Erza mumbled before groaning, "Get back here!"

She jumped up and gripped one of the thicker branches. Once she was sure she had a firm grip, she hoisted herself up into the leaves. Then she began to climb, using each branch like a rung in a ladder as she scrambled after Bran Stark.

But the boy may as well have been a squirrel. He dashed from limb to limb, hopped from tree to tree like he was born to be off of the ground. His small body combining perfectly with his sure handed grip and quick feet. The chase quickly carried both out of the godswood and onto the rooftops of the castle, with Bran easily finding handholds, footholds, and niches in the walls of stone that surrounded them. Meanwhile, Erza began to fall behind, struggling to keep up with a boy that she kept swearing was actually a monkey or lemur of some sort.

Bran flung himself up over the edge of roofed wall and up onto the shingles, his feet not even slipping an inch as he stood up and carefully balanced himself. With his hands out to his sides, he edged himself carefully towards a tall tower with a burned out top. Erza scrambled up onto the roof a few moments later. Her strong arms clutching any sort of handhold she could find as the cold morning wind beat against her body.

"BRAN!" She bellowed as the boy reached the tower and began to clamber up it's enormous height, "YOU'RE INSANE!"

"No!" Bran shouted back at her.

"You're going to fall!" Erza shouted as she carefully rose to her feet, only to drop to her knees again as a gust of wind slammed into her, nearly knocking her off of the walls. She glanced down and saw the ground was so far away. It was dizzying how high up they were now.

"I don't fall!" She heard Bran respond. He was now a fourth of the way up the tower.

Erza grit her teeth and slammed a fist into the shingles, cracking one, "Damn that boy." She muttered before carefully shimmying along the roof towards the Burned Tower.

When she finally reached the hulking, shadowed out structure, her hands sprung out to clasp stones jutting out from the sides. Her hair whipped around her as the wind began to pick up. Above her, the sky began to turn shades of pink and purple. And Bran was now near the top.

"Hurry up!" Bran shouted, "Or you will miss it!"

"Miss what!" Erza shouted back. But she got no reply as the boy disappeared into the top of the tower.

 _Oh, when I get my hands on him!_ Erza thought to herself, her teeth grinding together as she carefully placed a foot into a space where mortar once held two stones together, _Even Sansa will be shocked by the amount of punishment he shall receive!_ She then caught herself mid thought, quickly smacking her face with her hand, _Except I can't do that! This isn't Earthland anymore!_ She gripped another stone and hauled herself up another few feet, _Damn rules!_

It took another ten minutes before she was able to get to the top of the tower. By then, her arms were aching and her legs were sore. Her knees groaned in protest as she pushed herself up over the edge of the tower and into it's shattered top. She collapsed in a heap on the rickety wooden floor, her face staring up at the sky. Above her, the shades of pink grew lighter.

"You made it!" Bran exclaimed with a smile.

Erza glanced to her right to see the boy handing a trio of Crows some corn he had buried in his pant pockets.

"You didn't think I would?" Erza asked breathlessly.

Bran quirked his mouth then shrugged, "I had my moments of doubt."

Erza narrowed her eyes, "What's that supposed to mean!"

"LOOK!" Bran suddenly cheered, dropping the last few kernels of corn at the crow's feet and rushing across a makeshift bridge to the other side of the tower. Erza groaned, rose to her feet and followed.

The side of the tower they were on now was completely gone. The old stone face long ago burned away by a terrible fire caused by a terrifying lightning strike. All that remained of this side of the tower were blackened stone blocks strewn across the damp wooden floor. It allowed for a perfect view to the east of the castle.

The sigh managed to take Erza's breath away.

There, to the east, rising over the endless hills, barrows, and forests of the North, was the sun. It's fiery visage peaking over the horizon like an enormous yellow and red blanket. It shimmered and flickered as it slowly lumbered up into the night sky, giving the land it's first taste of a new day.

As Erza stared wide eyed at the sight, Bran looked up at her and smirked.

"Do you see why I like climbing now?" One of the crows in the corner cawed and flapped it's wings, hoping Bran would give it more corn.

Erza nodded wordlessly. The North to her had always seemed like a cold, unforgiving land. That was how it was always described in the books she had read from Maester Luwin's library. It was a land of fog filled barrows, haunted by the ghost of the barrow kings and the first men. A land filled with treacherous mountain peaks that always had snow on them, even during the peak of summer. A land whose winds could whip together a blizzard so violent and cold that entire towns could be buried beneath the snow.

And now, she was looking out at the most beautiful sunrise she had ever seen. The golden rays of Westeros's sun bathing the frigid land in light, causing the frost that blanketed the cold land to shimmer.

"It looks like a million diamonds are out there." Bran commented as he stroked the head of one of the crows, "I like coming up here every so often like this. No one else has ever seen it before. So I'm special that way."

Erza glanced over at Bran, "Well… now I've seen it too." She then smiled at him, "Thank you, Bran."

The boy shrugged, "You're welcome."

Erza glanced back at the sun, it's massive size now nearly over the horizon.

"But you're still in trouble."

Bran gulped in fear.

….

The rest of the day went by rather uneventfully. Bran recieved sharp words from his Mother, while his father remained as silent as a stone on the matter. Maester Luwin escorted Bran to the library instead of Ser Rodrik taking him to the yard to train with Robb and Jon. His punishment for climbing so high at such a dangerous hour. Bran groaned as the old Maester led him away to his studies. And had simply chuckled and made her way to the yard as well.

She trained for several hours with Jon and Robb, who now wanted to be taught by Erza after taking a thorough thrashing by his half brother one day. All the while, Theon Greyjoy watched from his perch near the guardhouse, long bow in hand as he debated whether or not to go practice his archery.

When Lord Stark arrived in the yard, Erza had quickly ended her session with Jon and Robb and strode away, searching for some other task to take care of. She had taken great pains over the past few days to avoid Lord Eddard Stark. If she spoke to him, she feared that her temper would get the better of her. Gray still lingered down in the dungeons, the other man of the Night's Watch executed the night he had agreed to Lord Stark's terms. Now he waited on one of the Black Brother's to come down to Winterfell from the Wall and take him back to Castle Black. Every day that Gray was down in those cold dungeons, imprisoned by icy iron bars, made Erza shake even more with fury towards Lord Stark.

That was not justice. Not in her eyes. Gray did nothing wrong. If anything, Gray did what any Fairy Tail wizard would have done. He helped someone in need. And he didn't know the laws of this land. He didn't know that he was assisting a criminal. Yet, despite all of that, Lord Stark still judged him guilty of committing a grave crime and nearly killed him for it.

 _What kind of justice is that!?_ Erza thought as her face curled into a snarl.

She sat at the top of the Burned Tower once again, only this time, to see the sun set below the horizon. Though the view wasn't as good as the sunrise. And this time, she didn't climb up here as Bran usually did. Instead… she took the stairs. A path that her body graciously thanked her for by no longer being sore and stiff.

It was quiet up here. Erza could see why Bran enjoyed this tower so much. The only noise were the flapping of the crows that nested here and the whistle of the wind. Her black fur cloak was wrapped tightly around her armored body as she sat on the edge of the burned tower, her legs swinging out over the side. Her brown eyes scanned the land as it was slowly engulfed by the night.

The North was so vast on it's own. It was one thing to see it on a map, but another to see it like this. And if the North was this massive, then how big was Westeros? Or for that matter, Essos? She sucked in a deep breath and bowed her head, staring at her knees.

 _How am I ever going to find them all?_ She thought as her mind wandered to her friends. Images of Lucy, Natsu, Mira, Cana, Levy, and Wendy dancing through her mind. Especially Wendy. She worried about her. She was so young. And now, she was possibly on her own in a world she did not know. Erza couldn't help but wonder if she was safe or not.

"There you are." The quiet voice of Jon Snow said.

Erza jumped, startled that someone other than Bran came up here. She then sighed and nodded. Jon quietly made his way over to the edge where she was sitting and peered down.

"This may be a little too high for me." He muttered, rubbing his arms with his gloved hands as another chilled wind bit into the tower.

"Me too." Erza nodded, "But it's quiet."

Jon nodded and took a seat beside, "I can understand why it's attractive to you then. After all, you do have to deal with Sansa and the others all day."

Erza smirked, "True." She then frowned, "Did you know Sansa calls me She-man?"

Jon furrowed his brow, "She does?" Erza nodded.

Jon nodded in return, "Not sure what to think of that." He then glanced at Erza, "I mean, you fight better than any man I know. So maybe it does fit."

Erza shoved his arm, "Shut up!"

Both chuckled as they sat at the top of the burned tower. Both silent as the sun set. Shades of orange and red painting the sky before giving way to strokes of violet and black.

"You're obviously think about something." Jon finally said, breaking the long silence between the two.

"How do you know?" Erza asked, glancing at him.

"You've got that look on your face." Jon replied, "A lot of people get that look when they're unsure of something. I see it on Lord Stark's face many times. He usually seeks out Maester Luwin's council when he gets that face."

Erza sighed, "Aye." She muttered, "But I've been seeking Maester Luwin's council for well over a month now and still…" She nudged a small pebbled over the edge before bringing her right knee close to her chin and straightening her left leg out.

"You'll find them eventually. I'm sure of it." Jon said reassuringly.

"I hope so." Erza muttered.

Jon gazed out at the setting sun as well, the last third of it still gracing the land with warmth.

"You know something." Erza glanced over at Jon as he spoke, "You and I have trained in the yard everyday since you've gotten here and yet… I know nothing about you?"

Erza quirked an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I know how you fight. I know what you think of a fight. I know what you think of Lord Stark and his family. But I don't know anything about you."

"And?" Erza replied cautiously.

"And… well…" Jon pursed his lips, "I figured since we are friends we should at least know something about each other."

 _Friends._ The word sort of caught Erza off guard. She hadn't expected to make friends in this world. She had expected to devote all of her time to finding those friends that she considered family. But now that she thought about it, Jon truly was a friend to her. Perhaps the only one here in Winterfell. Maybe Bran and Arya could be friends, but they were too young for her truly be a friend to them. And Robb was too much like his father and he preferred to hover about with Theon Greyjoy, a boy Erza had slowly grown to dislike even more than Lord Stark.

"You first then." Erza replied.

"Me first?"

"Aye, you want to know something about me, then you need to return the favor." Erza brought her other knee up to her face, using her shins to shield the rest of her body from the cold air, "What was it like growing up here? In a castle."

She saw Jon's face harden briefly.

Erza blinked, realizing that it may not be subject he wanted to talk about. "I don't mean to bring up any bad memories or-"

"No, it's alright." Jon replied, "I suppose, my upbringing was… typical for a highborn's bastard. Or, at least, I hope it is typical. But I doubt it was. Lord Stark brought me here to Winterfell just after the end of Robert's Rebellion. I like to think he wanted to raise me as one of his own sons but.." He clenched his jaw, "Lady Catelyn wouldn't have it. I was no Stark, she made sure to remind me of that every day. No matter how much blood I shared with her children, I was not one."

Erza stared wide eyed at Jon.

"But…" He continued, "I shouldn't complain too much. As much as Lady Catelyn may not like me, she had given me a roof over my head for my entire life. She has allowed me to eat with her children and Lord Stark. She has allowed me to be trained by Ser Rodrik along with her own children. So…" He stared blankly out at the cold landscape, "While she can be cold, I suppose she has done what she felt was best for me. I hope." He glanced at Erza, "What about you? Where did you grow up?"

He could see that he immediately touched a nerve. Her face hardened so much that it may as well have been made of stone. He could see a far away stare enter her gaze for a brief moment before she bowed her head, hiding he face with her scarlet locks.

"If you don't want to-"

"It's alright." Erza said quietly, raising her head, "I um…" She brushed some hair away form her eyes, "I grew up an orphan, actually." Jon's eyes widened at that, "I lived in a small village called Rosemary village." She smiled wistfully, "It wasn't an easy life by any means but it was… a life. I lived happily. I didn't really know how tough I actually had it, living on the streets and all. But I survived, I made some friends, I ate, and I had clothing. But-" She stopped abruptly and Jon could see pain enter her eyes.

"Something happened?"

Erza swallowed hard then nodded.

"The village was…attacked by a group of cultists, slavers." Jon's eyes widened in shock, "They killed all of the adults and rounded up all of the children. They took us to this tower they were building. It was called the Tower of Heaven. Back in my world, it was rumored to be able to bring back the dead if it was ever able to be completed." Jon stared both stunned and fascinated as Erza spoke, "I-" She quickly wiped a tear from one of her eyes.

"Don't say anymore." Jon said quickly, seeing her struggle with the memories.

"Thanks." Erza replied, "Anyways…" She breathed heavily, "I eventually escaped and wound up in Fairy Tail. Master Makarov took me in and well…" She smiled at Jon, "And orphan found her family."

Jon smiled at that, "You found your family." He repeated, "That must've been amazing when you did."

"It was." Erza remarked, "They aren't related to me by any sort of blood or family tree or anything like that. But I would gladly put my life on the line for them. I would protect them until I could not breath anymore."

Jon nodded before speaking again, "I hope to find that as well."

Erza glanced at him, eyebrow raised, "Find what?"

"A family."

Erza stared at him puzzled, "But, you have one, don't you?" She rested back on her elbows now, growing more comfortable as the night came, "I mean, you have Robb, Arya, and Bran. Your father is Lord Stark and-"

"And they are Starks." Jon interrupted quietly, not raising his voice in any way at Erza, "They may be my blood, but they are not…" He clenched his jaw for a moment, "They are not my family. One day, Robb will be Lord of Winterfell. He won't have time for a bastard like me. Bran will be one of his bannerman or a famous Knight of the Kingsguard. Arya will be the Lady of some great house along with Sansa. And I will still be…" He took a shaky breath, "I will still be the Bastard. Only then, I will be forgotten by those who would call me brother now."

Erza stared dumbfounded at Jon, "No you won't be." She shook her head in disagreement, "I get the feeling that the Stark's wouldn't do that to you."

"How can you be so sure." Jon replied, "I'm not one of them Erza. I never will be. I will never become a Lord, or a banner man. I will never be able to raise children and name them Stark after my father. My family, if I ever have one, will be forgotten to time, like every other bastard in history."

Erza frowned and reached over with a gauntlet covered hand. She turned his head to face her.

"Only if you let that happen." She replied, "My family didn't find me." She noted, "I found them. I made them my family and they made me one of their family in return. I fought to become who I am today. Me...an orphan girl from a razed village. And you will have to do the same." Jon stared quietly at Erza, "You will find your family someday Jon. They may not be who you think they are. For all you know, you really are Stark." She then smirked and rose to her feet, "Heck… maybe you end up a Fairy like me. Stranger things have happened in both of our worlds."

And she left him there, at the top of the burned tower. Thousands of stars twinkling high in the clear night sky around them.

 **And chapter! I feel like this story needed a chapter like this. One that really builds on the relationship between Erza and the Stark family. And, as I promised, it was a much lighter toned chapter than the previous one. I really enjoyed writing this one! Anyways, I'm going to go and work on that Natsu chapter now (hopefully I have some free time what with work and all). Let me know what you guys think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	17. Natsu III

**Hello everybody! I've got a new chapter ready to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Natsu

He sniffed the air, the aroma of charred meat filling his nostrils and causing his mouth to water. A wide grin spread over his lips, revealing sharp canines that were soon going to dig into the massive leg of chicken that was sitting atop a golden platter. All of his energy was now focused on the delicacies laid out before him. The pork and beef. Stews that simmered in rich broth that made his stomach rumble in delight. Melons and berries that burst into sweet pools of juice and pulp in his mouth. If there was one thing Natsu could admit about Pentos, it was that the food was unreal.

Still though… he had no idea where in the world he was.

Many in the guild back home thought he was as dumb as a rock. Which, if he was going to be honest, was true maybe twenty percent of the time. But he wasn't so stupid that he never bothered to learn about his surroundings. When he learned about the city he was in, he decided to consult a map. After all, that's what Lucy, Erza, and Gray always did when they were traveling and he was nearly blacked out on a train.

But… that was no help either.

Nothing looked familiar on the map to him. He even looked at all of the really tiny names scribbled in black ink, searching for any landmark or name that was familiar. But there was no Magnolia on the map. Nor was there a Mount Hakobe, or a Hargeon, or Crocus. There wasn't even a big bold word that said Fiore on the map. Nope, the only words on the map were names and locations that Natsu had never heard of. And among them, in the along the north western coast of the massive land mass called Essos, was the biggest puzzle of them all.

 _Pentos…_ Natsu thought as he sank his teeth into a mouthful of chicken. He then set the leg down and frowned, _SERIOUSLY! WHERE IS IN THE WORLD IS THIS PLACE!_

 __"Enjoying the food?" A gruff voice asked, one unfamiliar to Natsu's ears.

He whipped his head to his right to see a very tall man taking a seat beside him. His own golden plate laden with food as well. Though it was in a much more organized state than Natsu's pile of food.

Along with his height, the man was broad. Muscular shoulders stretched the sleeves of his plain leather tunic while his barrel shaped chest bulged out from his body. Large hands delicately placed a napkin along his lap before elegantly gripping a fork and knife and cutting a small slice of meat for himself. His lightly bearded jaw chewed quietly while sharp blue eyes stared inquisitively at Natsu.

Natsu's face broke into a wide, innocent smile.

"ISH'S AMASHING!" He declared, mouth still full of food.

The man arched an eyebrow then nodded.

"I agree." He took another small bite, "Illyrio Mopatis certainly knows how to entertain his guests." His eyebrows rose once again when he saw Natsu stick the entire chicken leg down his gullet, quickly chew, then swallow, "Um… may I inquire," Natsu paused, trying to process the unfamiliar word, "Who are you?"

Once again, Natsu started stuffing his face before speaking. This time grabbing a small roll of bread and devouring it whole. He then held out a hand coated in a thin veneer of butter, "Nashu Dragneel!" He said, bread blocking his voice as he spoke.

"By the gods! Please speak without stuffing your mouth." The man muttered under his breath. Quiet enough to where he thought Natsu wouldn't hear him.

"Oh!" Natsu blinked and gulped down the food, nearly choking as he barely chewed on the roll, "Sorry!" The man's eyes widened as he realized, the strange child with the pink hair had heard him. Natsu then wiped his greasy fingers on his black waistcoat and held out his hand again, "Natsu Dragneel!" He said with a wide smile.

The man stared dumbfounded at the boy. Not only was he shocked by this nobody's cheerful demeanor, but he was also stunned by how much the boy was consuming. He seemed to be a bottomless pit when it came to food. Still, he remembered his courtesies and gripped Natsu's hand tightly.

"Jorah Mormont."

"Nice to meet you Jonah Morton!" Natsu replied with an innocent smile.

Jorah Mormont frowned. Who was this child? This boy who was sitting so close to the high table where Illyrio Mopatis sat with his honored guests. His sharp eyes cast a quick glance up at the high table. The two silver haired Targaryeans were there, sitting to the left and right of their host. The prince, no… true king of Westeros, Viserys Targaryean, merely picked at his food as he glanced about the banquet area. His silver hair tied tightly back so that the high winds of the day didn't sweep it over his face. A permanent sneer etched on his visage that only deepened when he finally caught a glimpse of Jorah sitting beside Natsu.

To earn such a gaze from such a powerful person made Jorah want to learn who this Natsu Dragneel really was even more. Yet the boy seemed to be a complete fool in his eyes. His entire existence solely devoted to the meal on his plate and satisfying his hunger pangs. Although, the more Jorah studied the boy, the more peculiar he became.

At first he thought Natsu Dragneel to be some sort of Tyroshi, slave or sellsword or something else. After all, his skin was dark enough to possibly be one of them. And the outlandish color of his hair matched the trend that was currently sweeping through that culture. Jorah honestly couldn't understand why a man would want to dye their hair such a vivid color.

 _Maybe they think it looks intimidating._ He thought before shrugging that thought off to the side as he noticed the boy's teeth.

Sharp, especially the canines. Like razors digging into the meat the was on his plate. Jorah swore the boy to be half an animal from how he devoured his food. It was as if he was hungrily ripping into prey. All the while a wide, pleased grin was on his face.

He cocked an eyebrow as the boy stopped loudly chewing and glanced up at the high table, his dark eyes focusing on the other silver haired Targaryen. Indeed, Jorah had caught himself cast a wanting glance or two at her as well. Daenerys Targaryen was truly radiant. Her pale skin without a single blemish. The rich silk dress curving perfectly to her form. The violet eyes that haunted any man that would look at them. But those same haunting eyes were very afraid. He could see that. And apparently, so could the boy.

"She looks scared." Natsu said simply.

Jorah looked back at Daenerys and saw her shifting her weight nervously in her seat. That stopped when Viserys cast her a warning stare.

"She should be." Jorah commented before shoveling a piece of melon into his mouth.

Natsu frowned, "Why?" He asked.

Jorah munched on another fruit as he replied, "Because…" He took a breath then a sip of water from the glass near him, "She is meeting Khal Drogo today."

The boy looked lost as he said that name, "Cal who?"

Jorah once again gave Natsu a dumbfounded glance.

 _That settles it._ He thought, _The boy is not Tyroshi, he is not a slave, and he is no knight._ He looked at his attire. Jet black waistcoat, trimmed with gold, unbuttoned. Billowy white pants that only reached his shins. And rough leather sandals that looked like they needed to badly be seen by a cobbler. Jorah nodded to himself, _The boy has to be a fool._

"You are unfamiliar with Khal Drogo?" Jorah said, his bewilderment only growing when the boy nodded.

"Yup," Natsu took a large gulp from his own glass of water, "Never heard of him."

 _How!?_ Jorah wondered.

Khal Drogo was a name that struck fear into the heart of every man from the Free Cities to Slaver's Bay, even beyond. It wasn't long ago when Jorah had been in the company of the Usurper in Westeros, who spoke with both foreboding and respect in regards to a horde of Dothraki Screamers. The most fearsome of which belonged to Khal Drogo's massive Khalasar. A moving city of nearly one hundred thousand souls. Forty thousand of which were Screamers, warriors who followed their Khal until their death or their Khal's own death.

Jorah had witnessed the massive size of the Khalasar first hand. He had rode with them, freely too. They respected him as a warrior and thus allowed him to accompany the Khalasar towards the Free Cities, though he eventually chose to ride ahead in order to see the last Targaryens for himself.

Such a massive amount of people moving through the land would be impossible not to hear about. So how was this boy so ignorant of it?

"Hey, Jonah."

Jorah frowned, "My name is Jorah."

"Right!" Natsu smiled, "Jor-ah." He repeated to himself before nodding, "Why is Dany so afraid of meeting this Cal guy?"

That surprised Jorah even further. Dany? He glanced up at the high table and saw the girl casting Natsu a small glance before returning to her petrified state. It was then that Jorah understood how Natsu was so close to the high table. He was friends with the Targaryen girl. Close enough friends that he was allowed to call her Dany, even when in the presence of others.

He turned to face Natsu.

"Khal Drogo," He reiterated, making sure the boy understood the proper pronunciation, "Is a very powerful man in the Dothraki." Natsu stared blankly at Jorah as he spoke, "He is the leader of the largest Khalaser in the entire Dothraki Sea. He commands over forty thousand men," Jorah leaned closer to Natsu, "And he has never lost a battle. He is quite possibly the greatest warrior I have ever laid eyes on." He looked up at Daenerys, "And she is to be his bride." Natsu's eyes bulged out of his skull, "Hopefully." Jorah finished quietly.

A small choir of flutes and drums began to softly play in the background. The musicians doing their best to ease the growing unrest among the rich and noble who attended this important gathering. All at the orders of Illyrio of course. He had to show power, to show Pentos' power. Otherwise… Jorah shuddered at the thought of a Khalasar ransacking this city. And with Khal Drogo at the head… there would be nothing left of Pentos.

"Eh." Natsu muttered before gripping another leg of chicken, "I know better."

Jorah raised an eyebrow, "Better what?"

"Warriors." Jorah narrowed his eyes, "I know better."

"Do you?" Jorah asked.

Natsu nodded, "An old friend of mine, her name is Erza-"

"Her?" Jorah said, his sense of disbelief building as the boy spoke.

"Yup!" Natsu nodded, "She can beat anybody in a fight! And I mean anybody. I've fought her a bunch and I still can't beat her." His fist tightened around the chicken leg, "Oh when I see her again, I'll finally beat her! Yes I will!"

Jorah rubbed his forehead, the tension at the table and the sheer stupidity he had just exposed himself too causing a headache to form in his skull.

 _Certainly a fool._ He thought before gripping a cup of wine and taking a large gulp from it.

Suddenly, the music stopped. The quiet chatter at the table ended. In the distance, the sound of hoofs beating into the grass outside of the Pentos's walls rumbled in Jorah's ears. Meanwhile, Natsu cringed and poked at his right ear.

"Damn!" he complained before shaking his head, "That is loud!" Jorah looked at the boy, puzzled, "Is a train coming through here or something?"

"A what?"

"A train, Jonah." Natsu reiterated, "You know… choo, choo!"

Jorah's mouth fell open. He didn't even know how to respond to that. The boy had just now downgraded himself from fool, to blithering idiot.

 _How the hell are you a friend of Lady Daenerys!?_

Illyrio clapped his hands together, drawing the attention of everyone at the banquet table.

"The great Khal Drogo has arrived!"

"Finally." Viserys grumbled quietly to the side.

Both Natsu and Jorah could see Daenerys face grow even more pale as Illyrio made his announcement.

Everyone at the table stood up, Jorah and Natsu being the last to do so. Mostly because Jorah had to yank the boy up to his feet. He may be an idiot, but apparently he was Daenerys' idiot. He wasn't about to let the idiot be killed and upset the Lady anymore than she clearly was already.

The hoof beats grew louder until three riders emerged over a hill. They carried no standard or colors. All three were bare chested, not a stitch of armor on their bodies. Their legs were covered by simple riding leathers. All three had jet black hair. But while the two riders to the side had shorter hair, the rider in the center had long, thick hair held back in an immense braid that reached far down his back.

The center rider also seemed far more massive than his companions. He rose a full head higher than both, even when he sat in the saddle of his horse. Dark, menacing eyes scanned the crowd at the table as he trotted past. His gaze quickly flicked over to Jorah, to which he nodded before he turned to look at the high table where Illyrio Mopatis, Viserys Targaryen, and Daenerys Targaryen stood.

Natsu looked on with curiosity. This was that Khal Drogo guy Jonah was talking about? He didn't seem all that tough to him. Big sure, but not as big as Elfman back home. And he'd seen scarier gazes from Erza. Natsu honestly could not understand why everyone was so afraid of this guy.

"Khal Drogo!" Illyrio grinned, his arms spreading out in a welcoming gesture, "We are honored to have you join us."

The great Khal did not respond. He simply trotted his horse up towards the high table, then across before stopping in front of Daenerys. He paused, his dark eyes taking her in before he grunted. His powerful arms yanked on the reins and he spurred his horse away from the gathering, the two other riders following suit.

"What!?" Viserys exclaimed loudly, both in anger and confusion. Natsu was equally as confused.

 _Why would this guy show up and not do anything?_

"What is the meaning of this!?" Viserys demanded of Illyrio as the magister's arms fell to his sides, "Is this an ill omen! Surely he liked her!?"

Illyrio glanced at Viserys, "Oh… if he didn't like her. We would have known."

Viserys scowled, "What do you mean?"

Illyrio did not reply. Only sat down and returned to his meal in complete comfort. Any tension he may have had completely evaporated. And that was enough for the rest of the banquet. Though Viserys still remained on edge and Daenerys remained petrified in her seat.

"That went well." Jorah commented.

Natsu shook his head in confusion, "Um… what!?" He narrowed his eyes, looked upwards for a moment, then frowned, "I don't get it. How did that go well at all? He just got here, looked at Dany, then left."

Jorah nodded, "Exactly. He came, looked at her, then left."

Natsu frowned, "And that's a good thing because…"

"Because no one ended up dying." Jorah replied cryptically before taking one last bite from his plate. He then stood, "It was …" he paused trying to come up with the right phrasing for this occasion, "An interesting time meeting you, Natsu Dragneel." _May our paths never cross again, for the sake of my aching head._

Natsu grinned and held out his hand, "Nice to meet you too, Jorah Mormont." He said.

Jorah eyed the boy with caution. Now that he was leaving, he decided to pronounce his name correctly?

 _Something does not seem right with you._ Jorah thought, leaving Natsu's hand empty in the air as he turned on his heel and left the banquet.

Natsu blinked and watched as the large man exited, "Huh… he must not be in a good mood." He muttered. Just as he was about to dig into another helping of food, he felt a strong, slender hand grip his shoulder.

"You will come with me… now." He heard Viserys say sternly.

"But I'm eating." Natsu replied.

Viserys rolled his eyes and yanked Natsu away by his collar. No one at the banquet seemed to care.

The Targaryean king dragged Natsu a fair distance away from the banquet, far enough away so that no one could overhear them speaking. He then shoved Natsu away from him and proceeded to pace to and fro, his teeth nervously nibbling on his fingernails as he did so.

"You're an outsider to all of this." Viserys commented, "What did you make of," He waved his hand at the banquet, " _That?_ "

Natsu looked at him confused, "Well, the food was good. Could've used some desert and-"

"Not the banquet you fool!" Viserys snapped, "Khal Drogo."

"Oh!" Natsu nodded, "Well… not sure, actually. I thought he was weird looking and acted funny. But that guy who was next to me, Jorah… he seemed to think it went really well."

Viserys jerked up in surprise, "He did?"

Natsu nodded.

"Illyrio said the same." Viserys muttered to himself, not knowing Natsu could hear him clearly, "Still…" he looked at Natsu, "Daenerys is far to valuable to my plans for retaking the throne. If the Khal does not pay up on his promise, if he fails to provide me an army after he weds my sister, I want you to kill him."

Natsu looked at Viserys stunned, "Um… what?"

"Are you hard of hearing?" Viserys asked, "I am your king! I'm giving you a command. Khal Drogo and I made an agreement. He gets my sister, I get his army so I can conquer the Seven Kingdoms just as my ancestor Aegon the Conqueror did before me! Apparently, he liked my sister. Which means he will marry her. Which means that he will need to pay up. And if he doesn't, you will kill him. Understand."

Natsu's face darkened. He did not respond, he simply marched towards Viserys and got so close to his face that the Targaryen could feel the heat coming from Natsu's breath.

"I don't kill." Natsu growled threateningly, "And you will not make me."

Viserys was surprised by the boy's response. But his surprise swiftly changed to fury.

"You will!" Viserys growled, "Lest we forget! It was my will that allowed you live in the first place and-"

"No!" Natsu snapped back, "It was Dany who made sure me and Lucy lived. You wanted to have me killed." Natsu growled, jabbing Viserys with his finger, "I may not be a smart person. But I know who friends and enemies are. I'm only here now because that Red Lady said I had to be. Not because I serve you. Remember that."

Natsu turned on his heel and marched back towards banquet. No longer in the mood to enjoy the delicious food.

 **And chapter! This was a tough one to write. Sorry for the wait on it too. Life is stupid busy right now. I'm about to move to another state for one. For two, I'm still working over fifty hours week while trying to get ready to move. And yeah… it's tiring. Kinda stunts the writing process being exhausted. So again, sorry for the wait on these chapters. I wish I had more time on my hands to put them together. But sadly I don't.**

 **Anyways, Jorah and Khal Drogo have briefly entered the story. Natsu's not so impressed by Khal Drogo. Maybe that will change eventually. And Jorah can already feel the massive headache Natsu is going to cause him. Those two will have an interesting 'friendship' to say the least. I will have Natsu interact more with Dany here soon. I'm still trying to build their arc in the story though. So it will take some time. Anyways, let me know what you all think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	18. Lucy I

**Hello everybody! New chapter ready to go! And I know you all have been waiting for this one! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Lucy

Now, as the galley lumbered towards a shard of earth jutting out of the waves… now she understood why Natsu hated boats as much as he hated trains…. and magic mobiles… and anything that moved other than Happy.

She didn't know what came over her. The first few days of sailing away from Pentos were uneventful. Relaxing even. The ocean, or the Narrow Sea, that's what the sailors and the red woman called it, was incredibly calm. As if the galley was gliding over a sheet of glass. Even the ship's captain, a Tyroshi man with bright green hair and skin as black as midnight marveled at how still the ocean was.

"The god of the seas gives us his blessing!" He had cheerfully declared three days out of Pentos as the Red Woman stood beside him at the wheel.

And then, as in all of her adventures, the ride got very rough.

It started as a simple cloud drifting lazily over the sky; bringing about some soothing shade. A reprieve from the scorching sun that sat high overhead on their journey. But then that cloud became an overcast sky. And that overcast sky turned dark.

The first showers struck the night of the third day. Within an hour, the deck boards of the galley were slick with rainwater and sea spray. The once smooth surface of the Narrow Sea had become mountains of water rolling beneath the ship's belly and crashing with a thunderous bam over her bow. During that time, Lucy had found herself in one of two places: Hiding below deck and putting up with the ankle high water and the sweating bodies of the oarsman struggling against a true force of nature, or near the mast, hanging onto the ropes that were wrapped around it for dear life.

And during those terrifying days when the gale mercilessly tossed their galley over the waves, Lucy learned that she had a penchant for getting very, very seasick. Her knuckles would be white from the strain of clinging to the ropes of the mast as she attempted to stay put. All the while, her head would be spinning. The earth would be turning. And her stomach did flips that would've allowed it to be made part of a main attraction in a circus. She was fairly certain that she had stained the wood on the mast a sickly shade of green by the time the gale finished and she was able to relax once again.

The misery had lasted for two full days. And the storm had thrown the galley incredibly off course. According to the captain, they were closer to someplace called the Stormlands rather than their intended destination. A fact that made the red woman rather cross.

The red woman, Lucy could not wrap her head around her. The few moments of lucidity she had between sickness spells, she would attempt to study her new… 'companion'. She seemed very stern, hardly showing much emotion even when the captain said a legitimately funny quip that made Lucy laugh weakly from her spot on the deck. Other glimpses of the red woman were of her speaking quietly to a group of men who sat on their knees before her and chanted as she quietly muttered about light and fire and some guy named R'hllor. A scene that both caused concern and tremendous amounts of curiosity for the blonde haired girl. Perhaps those sailor were praying and the red woman was leading them in it. The thought had crossed Lucy's mind several times.

And during the storm, while every sailor scrambled on the deck, while every oarsman grunted and strained against the rolling waves, while the captain bellowed commands, and Lucy screamed then vomited then screamed some more, the red woman remained like stone beside the wheel. It was as if she was completely removed from the terrifying and deadly situation the galley was in. She was a picture of pure calm and serenity amidst the chaos of the storm. The spray of the sea that caused her thick red dress to cling to her skin did not bother her. The icy rain that pelted against everyone's bare skin like millions of sharp stones did not faze her. She kept her eyes onward, waiting for the galley to arrive at their final destination.

So… once it was established that they were about a day off course, the red woman had instantly demanded that they reset course towards Dragonstone. Her fury about the situation was not lost on their captain. His darkened face had paled and he quickly barked the orders to change course.

Now, one day later, Lucy saw a ghost of a smile cross the red woman's lips as that single shard of rock grew larger on the horizon.

A cold wind swept over the surface of the water and over the deck, bringing the blonde a chill which she tried to fend off by rubbing her arms. The entire time, she focused on the rocky island they were approaching.

Footsteps clapped against the deck boards. Lucy jerked back in surprise as the red woman drew up beside her.

"Finally." The woman breathed.

Lucy arched an eyebrow and cast another puzzled glance at the island that seemed almost uninhabitable. All she could see on it was black rock, sharp as razors.

"I don't get it." Lucy muttered before mentally smacking herself. _Oh God I sound like Natsu!_

The red woman shrugged, "Understandable." She replied, "Given that you are from another world."

Lucy almost jumped in surprise before she caught herself. In all of the chaos of this journey she had almost forgotten her situation. Somehow, someway, she and Natsu ended up being sent to another world entirely. How this occurred still escaped her. And the red woman didn't appear to be the kind of person that would willingly explain it all to her.

"Ok." Lucy breathed, "So enlighten me, the offworlder."

A soft chuckle left the red woman's lips. It sounded so strange to hear her sound cheerful.

"You must learn to have some patience, Lucy Heartfilia." The red woman remarked, "It will get you much farther in life than demanding to know everything." Lucy frowned at that, "But… I suppose I should divulge the situation to you now." The red woman leaned folded her hands and face Lucy, "That rock island is a place known as Dragonstone. And we are going to meet a very important man there."

Lucy quirked an eyebrow, "We?"

"Yes… we." The red woman replied.

Lucy frowned, "Still… I don't get it. I mean, first you take me away from Natsu saying that you had to protect me or something like that from some guy with anger issues, then you don't speak to me the entire journey here to Dragonstone, and now you are saying that I will be joining you in a meeting with someone very important!?" Lucy glared at the red woman, "You haven't even told me your name-"

"Melisandre." The woman quickly said.

Lucy blinked, "Oh well…" She drew back and rubbed her arms again, "That's a start I suppose. But still, Natsu could have protected me just fine! He has so many times before. So why did he agree to have me spirited away?"

Melisandre's face remained like stone, "Tell me Lucy, how do you feel?"

"Seasick."

"Not physically." Melisandre leaned in closer, her voice falling to a quiet hush so only Lucy could hear her speak, "Magically."

Lucy's eyes widened. She hadn't given that much thought since stepping onto the galley back in Pentos. But when she had arrived in this world, she had felt woozy, weak even. Like she was missing a key ingredient that made her strong. But she couldn't figure out what it could be.

Her hand brushed against a set of golden keys strapped to her belt.

"Not good." Lucy muttered.

Melisandre nodded, "And now you know why Natsu would not have been able to protect you." Lucy's eyes widened, "This world used to be a place of great magic," Melisandre explained, "But that was a long time ago. Before the Doom of Valyria, the fall of the dragons, and the disappearance of the Children of the Forest. Magic is a shell of what it once was. Only a select few, blessed by the Lord, are able to call upon _true_ magic anymore. And even then it is… muffled."

Lucy gulped and looked down at her precious keys, "So… if I tried to-"

"If you tried to summon your spirits." Lucy jerked her head up in surprise, "You would fail. The gate to the celestial spirit world will not open. And you would be defenseless against someone trying to do you harm." Melisandre leaned against the railing, her dark eyes gleaming with anticipation as the galley began to circle the rocky shore of Dragonstone, "Lucy, the magic I possess allows me to see things in fire." Lucy's eyes widened, "It is one of the greatest gifts the Lord of Light can bestow on mortal men. Through his fire, he can show me the past, the present, and even glimpses of the future." Melisandre's eyes stared at Lucy, "Weeks ago, when I still resided at the Temple in Asshai, I had a vision in the flames. And I saw you, a blonde woman from another world, bathed in light as the darkness attempted to consume her… but it could not."

Lucy stayed silent as she listened carefully to Melisandre.

"The enemy of the Lord of Light," Melisandre continued as the ship rounded a large rock outcropping and began to speed towards a massive port that sat in the shadow of a castle made of black stone, "Is darkness. The Great Other as he is also known."

Lucy took a deep breath, "And let me guess… you think I'm supposed to be some sort of hero to battle him?"

Melisandre cocked an eyebrow, "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Perhaps you are just a catalyst of sorts. Or maybe you are a hero." Lucy let out a small scoff, "Either way, you are significant to the Lord of Light in someway. That I know for a certainty."

The galley lumbered through the harbor and up towards one of the docks. As the oars began to be pulled back into the belly of the ship, Lucy could see a man wearing a brown tunic and dark pants marching towards the galley. His hands clutching a logbook of some sorts. Beside him, two others in chain mail marched by his sides. On their shields was a black stage on a yellow field with a crown around the creature's neck.

"Yes…" Melisandre nodded, "The crowned stag is here. And so is the man we seek."

Melisandre brushed past Lucy, leaving the blonde even more confused than before.

"But… huh?" Lucy mumbled before scrambling after Melisandre. At the bottom of the ramp that led down from the galley to the dock, their Tyroshi captain was waiting to speak to the man with the logbook, "Hold up!" Lucy exclaimed as she reached Melisandre's side again, "Can you at least tell me this guy's name!"

"I don't have to." Melisandre replied as the man with the logbook finally reached them, "You are about to hear it."

"In the name of Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, and Master of Ships; the port of Dragonstone asks that you divulge all information on cargo and passengers to the warden of the docks, myself." The man with the logbook swiftly said in a bored monotone.

 _Stannis Baratheon?_ Lucy thought, _Lord of Dragonstone?_ Her eyes bulged from her skull. _The guy we are meeting rules this place!_

"No cargo." The Tyroshi captain explained, "Just two passengers." His hand waved over to Lucy and Melisandre.

"And may I ask, who you are?" The warden stated.

Melisandre gave the man a small smirk, "Melisandre of Asshai." As she spoke, the man took a quill and began to scribble words down in his logbook, "This is my companion, Lucy of Asshai."

"Wait wha-"

A sharp glance from Melisandre silenced Lucy.

"She's a rather new member of my order. Still training." Melisandre continued.

"Your… order?"

It sounded as if the Warden had intended for his statement to be a question. Then Lucy saw his eyes widen as he stared at Melisandre.

"Red priestess." The Warden mumbled lowly and fearfully. He gulped, "I um… apologize for holding you up like this. Just standard procedure." As he spoke, Lucy could hear the fear dripping through his voice.

Melisandre only nodded, "Understandable. Lord Stannis is a cautious man. I can see why he would care to know who comes and goes onto his lands. If he wishes to know where we will be residing, we will simply be at the local inn for a time. As for what we will be doing... we will be doing the Lord's work."

The warden gave her a stiff nod, "Lady Selyse would no doubt want to see that." He then swallowed hard, "Very well then. I will give this information to the appropriate people, on your way then." And he turned on his heel and quickly marched away, his guards close on his heels.

Lucy glanced at Melisandre, puzzled, "What was that all about?" She asked as she followed the red woman away from the galley towards the small village that sat in the shadow of the immense castle.

"Unfortunately, especially for you and me, our Lord-"

"Our?" Lucy questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Melisandre frowned, "The Lord of Light has been slandered in these lands, and rather effectively too. The Seven Kingdoms worship the Seven. Each one of the seven dominates a certain aspect of life or their religion. And both common folk and nobles fervently hold onto their religion. And they view any others with anxiety. Such is the nature of humanity in that regard."

Lucy nodded, she was slowly started to grasp why everyone was suddenly so tense as they walked by. The common folk who had heard of the Lord of Light saw Melisandre and immediately averted their eyes, as if gazing upon her would be a grievous offence. Others who were more ignorant of other places in the world saw the two strange woman and gave them cautious, yet curious glances. They especially gave Lucy strange looks, which Lucy could hardly blame them for. She had not had the opportunity to change her outfit since she arrived in this world. And judging from how the few women on this rocky island dressed, she probably looked rather garish.

"Here we are." Melisandre noted before gently opening the door to the island's lone inn.

They were the only people present in the vast common room, besides the lone inkeep standing behind a small wooden countertop, his hand gently rubbing circles into the fine wood finish with a wet rag.

"Welcome ladies." The innkeeper, an elderly man with a large grey mustache and deep lines in his face nodded, "What can I do for you?"

"A room for two." Melisandre spoke, "But first we would like to sit and warm by the fire. We did have quite the damp journey across the narrow sea."

The old innkeeper nodded, "It was quite the storm indeed. Passed through here naught two days ago." He waved a hand over to his right where a roaring fire burned in a large stone fireplace, "She's all yours. Let me know when she needs to be stoked and I'll hobble over."

Melisandre nodded her thanks before she and Lucy strode over to the fireplace and sat down in a pair of rickety wooden stools. Lucy glanced back over at the innkeeper, noticing how comfortable he seemed.

"I don't get it."

Melisandre ripped her eyes away from the flames, "You keep saying that." She replied monotonously.

"The innkeeper doesn't seem to know that you… er… we-"

"Oh… he knows." Melisandre replied, "Just because a religion is frowned upon doesn't mean it does not have it's followers." Her dark eyes returned to the flames, "And it just so happens that Lady Selyse is one of the Lord's most fervent followers here in the Seven Kingdoms."

Lucy's eyes widened, "So that's why you chose here to-"

"Yes." Melisandre nodded, "That… and I've seen Lord Stannis in the flames."

Lucy frowned at that, "Seen him in the flames?"

Melisandre nodded, her eyes never leaving the fire. Slowly, her hand reached up to the large ruby necklace that was wrapped around her neck, "Indeed. Remember what I said about the Lord's magic."

Lucy frowned but nodded, "Yeah. But-"

"But how do you know I am speaking the truth?" Melisandre finished for her, stunning Lucy, "How do you know that I am not spinning false tales?" She looked back at Lucy, "How do you know that the Lord _is_ real?"

"Um…"

"All fair questions to ask." Melisandre continued. She drew back from the fire then glanced at Lucy, as if to silently say that it was her turn.

Lucy gulped and focused her brown eyes on the flickered flames. Orange and yellow danced in front of her vision, licking at the soot covered stone around them. But that was it. Just fire, nothing else.

"I don't see anything." Lucy mumbled, "I only see fire."

"Ah… you only see fire." Melisandre nodded, "That is all that new apprentices see at first. They don't know how to look yet. But I will share with you a hint," Melisandre leaned close to Lucy, to the point where she could whisper into her ear, "Do not look at the fire." Lucy arched an eyebrow in confusion, "See through the fire."

"But if I see through the fire I will just be staring at the wall and-"

" _See_ ," Melisandre hissed, "through the fire." She retreated away from Lucy, "Try again."

Lucy's frown deepened. _Of course. She decides to talk in riddles!_ Lucy huffed and focused her eyes on the flames once again. It's not like she had anything better to do. She was stuck with the red woman and her tall tales.

 _Lord of Light._ Lucy thought with a small smirk. _Can see the future in flames. There isn't even magic like that in Earthland. The closest thing is Cana's tarot-_ Her mind stopped thinking as she followed Melisandre's advise.

See through the flames. It was if a veil had been lifted away from her eyes. The fireplace and common room faded away from her vision and was slowly replaced by a frozen landscape. Not a tree was in sight. Not a bush, not a single blade of grass could be seen through the sheets of ice that stretched on as far as the eye could see. In the distance, great snow covered peaks, perpetually covered by enormous blizzards towered high into the dark sky.

 _What the heck?_ Lucy thought before she heard ice cracking behind her.

Her skin was covered in goosebumps as a chill colder than anything she had ever felt crawled up her body. With a trembling head, she slowly turned to see the silhouette of a man behind her. It was a pale shadow, nearly blending in with the snowstorm around them. Then the shadow moved towards her.

Lucy's eyes widened as it got closer. The pale silhouette was not a shadow at all! Lucy's eyes widened and her mouth opened in a quiet scream. A hand with skin like ice raised a frozen javelin over her head. She sealed her eyes shut.

The common room reappeared. And she could see Melisandre sitting close beside her, a look of both satisfaction mixed with concern on her face. Lucy then realized how heavily she was breathing.

"You saw it." Melisandre whispered, "Didn't you?" Lucy stared terrified at Melisandre's calm visage, "The Great Other comes soon. And he brings the Long Night with him."

 **And chapter! Sorry it took me a little bit to get this one out! My job is nearing the end of it's season. Once the snow hits I'll be done working full time so I'll actually have time to write a lot. I'm looking forward to it! Anyways, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Again, it was more of an introductory chapter than anything else, revealing the whereabouts of Lucy and what she's going through. She will have a major part in this story, especially further down the line. As for Melisandre, I've got something fun planned for her! I'm excited for it to slowly be revealed. Anyways, let me know what you guys think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	19. Wendy IV

**Hello everyone! New chapter ready to go! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Wendy

Wendy lounged quietly in the blue velvet chair. Her small feet rested on top of the large cushioned pedestal that acted as a footrest. Her head was resting back against the chair while another pair of small, dainty hands folded her hair into a braid.

Warm summer air breezed by the two girls as they sat on Myrcella's balcony overlooking the courtyard of the Red Keep. Down below, the many trees and plants drifted lazily in the air while a multitude of servants and guards walked along the paved pathways that crisscrossed the area. Watching the daily life of a genuine castle fascinated Wendy, almost as much as see the actual streets of King's Landing. But that only happened when she was with Petyr. According to him, King's Landing was not a safe, clean, or respectable city and she had no business wandering it alone.

But where he saw dirty and dangerous, Wendy saw genuine. She had visited the Street of Steel multiple times with him. Specifically a certain blacksmith named Tobho Mott. And every time, Petyr spoke in great detail not with the man who owned the shop, but with his apprentice. A giant of a boy with jet black hair and steely eyes that always seemed wary of Petyr. Despite the apprentice's cautious demeanor which seemed to set everyone on edge, Wendy always enjoyed those little trips. It allowed her to get out of the brothel and Red Keep, even if it was just for a little bit.

Myrcella's hands expertly folded Wendy's hair.

"In the loop," She mumbled to herself as she gently gripped strands of Wendy's blue hair, "And through," She paused, "Wendy,"

"Yeah?" Wendy replied.

"I always meant to ask this but… I guess I thought it might have been rude to do so," Myrcella began, "But why is your hair blue?"

Wendy's mouth opened then closed. She wasn't sure how to respond to that one. Petyr had explicitly told her to keep her origins a secret. There were ears everyone in the Red Keep. And none of them had her best interests in mind. After how helpful he had been to her so far, she took him at his word. Especially after see how cold his interactions were with his fellow council member, Varys.

"They call him the Spider for a reason, Wendy." He had told her, "Do not trust him."

So now the dilemma appeared before her. What would be her explanation to Myrcella for her blue hair? She rubbed her chin then smiled.

When she wasn't with the two young Baratheon children, she was back at Petyr's, learning all that she could. And he was more than happy to educate her. A grin was always on his gaunt face as she asked questions and he would readily answer them. Then he would suggest reading material to further her own knowledge on the subject. One such book was a simple little pamphlet about a land call Tyrosh, far in the east. In that land, people colored their hair a multitude of bright colors. And it was seen as incredibly fashionable.

"I got the idea from some Tyroshi sailors who came by my home one day." Wendy lied without so much as blinking.

Myrcella's eyes widened, "Really!? You've met Tyroshi sailors?"

Wendy turned to looked back at Myrcella, "Yup! One of them was a girl, and she had bright yellow hair! Not blonde, but like…" Wendy waved her hand trying to find the right comparison in her mind. Her eyes settled on the golden necklace around Myrcella's neck, "As bright as your necklace."

Myrcella gaped at her, "That is strange!"

"But apparently it's really popular in their homeland. I always liked the color blue so… I decided to give it a try." Wendy grinned.

"And your parents let you!?"

Wendy stumbled at that bit. Her parents? Well… her parent was technically an ultra powerful Sky Dragon with feather like wings and a gentle personality. And she was fairly certain that story would not go over well in the Red Keep.

 _Follow Petyr's advice._ She reminded herself, _It's for yours and Carla's safety._

"Yeah… I guess." Wendy's smile faded a little.

Myrcella arched an eyebrow, "Did I say something offensive?" She asked as her hands returned to Wendy's hair.

"Uh no! Not at all." Wendy remarked, "It's just…." _Grandeeney disappeared when I was little. My other parent like figure turned out to just be a centuries old thought projection of some sort. And I've just been separated from my newest family by a random accident that I still don't understand._

How she wished she could just blurt all of that out. Wendy felt like she could trust Myrcella. Unlike her older brother, Myrcella was a gentle, kind girl. A rarity among the Lannisters, as Petyr had told her.

"They're gone now." Wendy confessed, deciding upon a half truth. She had overheard Petyr speaking to his girls once. It was on a completely lewd subject that she wished she had never heard, but part of the conversation involved making the… 'customer'... believe their interaction with his girls was genuine. In order to do that, half truths worked far better than small lies.

Myrcella gasped, "Oh! I'm so sorry Wendy. If I had known I would not have brought it up."

"It's alright." Wendy sighed, leaning back in her seat again just as Myrcella finished the braid and began to elegantly make her way to a seat opposite of Wendy.

"It is a lovely day out isn't it?" Myrcella noted as she sank deep into her own seat, sighing in complete comfort as she did so.

Wendy nodded, "It's a warm one too."

"Yes it is. But," Myrcella waved at the doorway to her room. Instantly, a servant came shuffling out onto the balcony with a pitcher of water and two glasses, "I keep hearing my uncle Renly say that it is not going to last much longer." She then thanked the servant as she took her glass.

"Thank you." Wendy muttered as she took her own glass of water as well. She returned her attention to Myrcella, "What do you mean by that?"

Myrcella shrugged, "Summers come and go. Or so all the adults say. I've never known a winter yet." She shuddered, "It makes me nervous to have to go through one. But, it is coming. The Maesters in Old Town said so themselves. Grand Maester Pycelle received a raven about it not too long ago. This summer is coming to an end soon."

Wendy nodded. She had learned about the seasons here is Westeros. When Petyr had first explained them to her, she had been stunned by the length and extremes the seasons could go to. Summers could be so hot, that it was almost too stifling to wear clothing. Winters could become so cold that men would freeze sitting beside a roaring fire. And each season lasted for years at time, and sometimes for nearly a decade.

"They say this winter could be especially bad." Myrcella said, a small frown on her lips, "I hope not."

Wendy shrugged, "A little snow won't hurt us." She sighed and waved her hand in front of her face, "Especially given all the heat we've been having."

Myrcella giggled, "True." She looked out at the city, "I almost envy the common folk. They can deal with the heat however the wish. And they don't have to worry about wearing all of…" She gripped her thick dress, " _This!"_ Wendy began to laugh, "Honestly I'm amazed all of us nobles don't succumb to the heat what with all of the clothes we put on."

The pair fell silent for a moment, enjoying the sounds of King's Landing. The cries from the market, the distant sounds of hammers striking anvils on the street of steel, the creaking of ships sailing into Blackwater Bay. Somehow, the cacophony of noise created an almost relaxing wall of sound. This city never seemed to rest.

"What's your home in the Fingers like Wendy?" Myrcella suddenly asked.

Wendy pursed her lips, "It's not much. Like Petyr says, most villages are so small they don't even have a name."

"And is that the case with yours?"

Wendy nodded, "Unfortunately yes."

"Well then," Myrcella smiled brightly, "We should think of a name for it!"

"We should?"

"Yes!" The young princess jumped to her feet, "Maybe Tommen can help us too!" As she spoke, the door to her chambers opened, "I'm going to go find him."

"I'll be here." Wendy replied before nodding at her leg, still wrapped in a thick cast, "Can't move very quickly."

"Right!" Myrcella nodded before sprinting towards the doors. As she rushed away from Wendy, the bluenette heard her stop in front of someone.

"Hello Mother." Wendy froze in her seat, "I'm going to go find Tommen!"

"Most likely he is with Ser Pounce somewhere." The voice of the Queen replied. It wasn't cold and harsh like it was when Wendy had first met her. Instead it was very warm and gentle. A true mother's voice, "Is your friend here?"

"She's out on the the balcony." Myrcella replied, "I've got to go find Tommen." And Myrcella scampered away.

The door shut behind the young princess, and the sound of the Queen moving towards Wendy filled the dragon slayer's ears. A quiet tap, tap, tap, as her lavish shoes glided over the tile floors of Myrcella's chambers and out onto the balcony where Wendy rested.

The queen looked especially regal today. Her bright golden hair beautifully held together by golden barrettes and braided exquisitely in the back. The style allowed her high cheekbones to be even more pronounced than before, revealing how stunning the queen actually was. Her sharp, cunning green eyes stared down at Wendy before drifting over to her leg.

"Is it still broken?" Queen Cersei asked, surprising Wendy with the amount of concern in her voice.

"Um…" Wendy muttered back, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Queen Cersei gave her a gentle smile, "I'm sorry. I have forgotten haven't I?" She sat down in Myrcella's seat, "I owe you an apology."

Wendy blinked, "An apology?"

"Yes. If had known you were related to Lord Baelish then I would not have frightened you so when we first met. And for that, I apologize."

Wendy gave Cersei a cautious look, Petyr's warnings running through her mind as she did so. No one was more poisonous than Lord Varys… and Queen Cersei.

"Th-thank you." Wendy replied quietly, feigning shyness to disguise her own mounting apprehension.

The Queen gave her a small smirk. She then plucked Myrcella's glass of water from the small table beside her chair and took a short sip, "Myrcella keeps talking about you."

Wendy gulped, "Sh-she does."

Cersei nodded, "She has grown quite fond of you. I'm glad to see that too. It is so rare for her to have a friend her age, what with her always being surrounded by guards and her brothers. To have a friend who is a girl no less is truly gratifying to see as a mother."

She set her glass down and sighed.

But the sigh did not relax the queen. Instead, her shoulders remained tight and her arms remained close to her body, as if she was doing her best to become as small possible. And though she did her best to appear at ease, her eyes betrayed a certain fear that Wendy could not place. The Queen was the second most powerful person in Westeros behind her husband. And, if what Wendy read was true, she was the daughter of the most powerful Lord in Westeros. No one was even close. She had absolutely nothing to fear. So why did she appear so anxious?

"Is something wrong?" Wendy stated then she jumped, remembering the courtesies that Petyr had drilled into her, "Your grace?"

Cersei eyed her momentarily then spoke, "Robert is preoccupied at the moment. It seems that Lord Arryn's illness has taken a turn for the worse." She bowed her head, "I did try to comfort him," She continued, softly, as if speaking to herself, "But he sent me away. He said that I had no place being beside his Hand during his last moments."

He sharp eyes darted over to the door as footsteps passed by. The Queen's anxiety only seemed to grow as she spoke of the King being with his ill Hand. Her hands were tightly clenched together in her lap and her lips pursed together as she sat across from Wendy.

"Sounds like you and him had a fight." Wendy remarked.

Queen Cersei gave her a wry smirk, "It is not the first time. And I am certain it will not be the last." She then rose to her feet, "I best be going. I think the Kingsguard have need of me. After all, I must do something while Robert stays beside Lord Arryn." She moved towards the balcony doors but paused to look back at Wendy, "I am grateful for you befriending Myrcella as you have. She seems so much happier now." And the Queen left.

….

The day had come and gone. Wendy and Myrcella spent most of the afternoon playing together along with Tommen and Ser Pounce. All three children enjoying the joys of being children. So much so that some of the household guard had been heard saying that the brightest smiles ever to grace the Baratheon children's lips always appeared when the little girl from the Fingers was nearby. But now, the night had come. Just before the skies turned blue from the twilight, Petyr retrieved Wendy from Myrcella's chambers and escorted her back to his home in King's Landing.

Upon arriving, Wendy noticed something strange. Petyr looked far more relaxed than normal. A smile seemed to be carved into his lips as he entered his study and fell back into one of the many chairs that lined the walls, a long, satisfied sigh leaving his lips. Wendy meanwhile, hobbled over to the desk, jumped up into the chair behind it, and tossed open the latest book she had been reading through. This one involving a war called, the Dance of Dragons, a conflict that was both horrifying and fascinating to Wendy. Anything having to do with Dragons in this world fascinated her. And she was keen to learn as much as she could about them.

As her eyes glossed over the text, she would occasionally glance up to see Petyr reading, or sipping wine, or writing some letters. The normal stuff he would do at this hour.

A heavy book slammed closed, causing Wendy to jump and lose the spot she was at in her book. She looked up to see Petyr setting a massive tome of some sorts back onto a shelf before nodding.

"Wendy, how much have you read up on the politics of Westeros?" He asked.

Wendy raised an eyebrow, "A bunch, I think?" She replied, "I know about the houses, how each kingdom is kind of run, the powers of the King and the small council."

"And what about lines of succession?"

Wendy's eyes lit up, "That one's easy. If the King dies, then his eldest son becomes the king. If that son dies without an heir then his oldest sibling holds the highest claim… I think?" She frowned, "It gets a little complicated after that."

"Quite right." Petyr replied turning to face Wendy, "But… what about if the Hand to the King dies?"

Wendy blinked, "I'm… not sure? I never read anything on that."

Petyr smirks, "Then perhaps I should remedy that." He took a seat beside Wendy, "You see, when the Hand dies, it is almost as important and devastating as the death of a King. So, when it does happen, the Great Sept of Baelor's bells will ring out over the city several times. Signaling the loss of someone truly great." Wendy closed her book and leaned on her hand, listening intently to Petyr, "At that point, after an appropriate amount of mourning, the King has a choice to make as to who he wants to succeed his hand. Now… a lot of times, this is a position that is the subject of, well… nepotism."

"Nepo-what?"

Petyr smirked, "The King's favorites get the best positions. Renly Baratheon, the King's brother, is Master of Laws, despite the fact that he is barely a man grown and, much like Robert in his youth, likes to bend the rules a little. The King's Brother in Law, Jaime Lannister, is second in command of the Kingsguard behind Ser Barristan Selmy. All of that despite the fact that the Young Lion of House Lannister is also known as the Kingslayer. Or Jon Arryn," Petyr glided away from Wendy to stare out the window in the direction of the Red Keep, "The King's father figure for most of his life." He glanced back at Wendy, "He sheltered King Robert. Fostered him. Raised the King into the man he is today. And started a long, bloody war in order to protect the man he saw as a son." He nodded, "Indeed, Jon Arryn is a true friend of King Robert. And so, Robert named him Hand despite others being much more suited for the position."

Wendy tilted her head in confusion. Petyr seemed to covet what Jon Arryn had. His voice dripped with envy as he spoke of the man. The power he commanded. The influence he wielded. She could see Petyr's eyes staring out the window, but they were not looking out at the city. No, he was staring far away at a future that he greatly desired. But what it was, Wendy did not know. However, in this moment, Wendy saw a sinister smirk cross Petyr's face. One that made Wendy's skin crawl.

The sun finally set and the stars began to twinkle over King's Landing. The fire in the study's small fireplace began to burn even brighter as Petyr stared through the window, his own reflection staring right back at him.

"Tell me Wendy, if the pattern holds true,"

Wendy jumped, startled as loud bells rang out over the city. As the bells echoed through the night sky, she saw Petyr's smirk widen into a pleased grin.

"Who will be the next Hand?"

 **And chapter! HERE WE GO! NO MORE FOREPLAY! We are now done with the introductions! It is finally time! This story is really going to get going now! And don't worry, I haven't forgotten Cana or Mira, they are just going to be introduced later on in the story. I've got it planned out for them, but I'm going to hold off for a little bit. Anyways, let me know what you all think! As always, I hope you guys enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	20. Erza VI

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

Erza frowned as she yanked a massive tome from the bookshelf. Another day of searching. Another day of waiting. Fruitless waiting. She shook her head and pulled the book into her arms, stumbling back slightly due to it's weight.

"Having trouble Miss Erza?" Maester Luwin asked as he sat behind his desk, letters and quills covering every inch of wood.

"I've got it just fine, but thank you." She replied curtly, hauling the book over to a small chair near the fireplace.

This is what she had been reduced to. Her entire purpose since arriving in this world has been to find her family. Instead, she had been playing babysitter for the Stark children (two of which were actually grateful, one too young to know what exactly was going on, one indifferent, and the last completely ungrateful) while her own family was who knows where facing who knows what! The only person she had managed to finally find was Gray. And even then, that was by complete and total accident.

Now, Gray was in a cell. Convicted of a crime that felt false to Erza. Sentenced to go to a wall where men die from the cold, desert due to the conditions, and battle barbarians that would gladly pillage the entire North for all it was worth. And without his magic… Erza shook her head again and yanked the cover of the tome open.

 _He won't survive without his magic._ She thought grimly, her hand holding the edge of the first page but refusing to turn it as she was lost in thought.

"My, that is quite the read you have chosen." Old Luwin commented, glancing up from his recordkeeping, his weathered eyes staring at the massive book in Erza's lap.

"Just trying to pass the time." Erza replied.

Time today was moving ridiculously slow for her. Normally, her day would be filled with keeping an eye on Bran, making sure Arya didn't mouth off to badly to Septa Mordane, dealing with the disgust of Sansa, or training with Jon and Robb out in the yard. But today, Lord Stark decided to take his sons beyond the walls of Winterfell and out on a hunt. The girls were with Septa Mordane and Lady Catelyn, both learning the intricacies of running a household much to Sansa's delight and Arya's dismay. That left Erza with two options, stay with baby Rickon or resume her research with Maester Luwin. And with how protective Lady Catelyn was of Rickon, Erza chose the latter.

But there was not much more Erza could glean from the texts, maps, and atlases at her disposal. She had already read through many of them, staying up late at night and reading by candlelight in order to learn as quickly as possible so she could have a head start in finding her family. At this point, she was just rereading the same information.

 _I'm wasting my time._ She thought bitterly.

Everything would be so much simpler if she had her magic. Her jaw tightened as she thought over the possibilities. With her magic, she could easily rescue Gray and escape the castle. From there it would be a long journey across Westeros, from Winterfell all the way to Sunspear, in order to find everyone else. And if they weren't in Westeros, it would be an even longer journey through Essos, a continent that seemed far more foreign to her than Westeros could ever be. And with her magic, she wouldn't have to worry about battle. She would win. Every confrontation with a Lord, or a Knight, or even some lowly bandit would end with her claiming victory and moving on with her journey. There would be none of this damn waiting.

Her eyes drifted away from the book and over to Luwin, who hobbled away from his desk towards the small window.

"It seems Lord Stark has returned." He commented, glancing back briefly to see the small flash of frustration crossing Erza's face. The old man sighed, "Miss Erza, I do not believe it wise to continue a feud with Lord Stark."

"It is not a feud!" Erza remarked, yanking page one of her book over to page two, nearly tearing the page as she did so.

Luwin raised an eyebrow, "Yes." He nodded sarcastically, "Clearly it is not."

"Oh and how would you react!?" Erza snapped, suddenly slamming the book shut, "How would you react if the only member of your family that you have found since landing in this world was being accused of a crime, if you could even call it that, by some man he had no idea existed!"

"I would call it a cruel twist of fate." Luwin admitted honestly, "For both you and Lord Stark."

Erza scowled in return.

"Do you think Lord Stark wanted to make that decision?" Luwin asked.

"I don't know!" Erza snapped back, her anger simmering even more, "But what I do know, is that he had both the knowledge and ability to not make _that_ decision!"

"And if you were in his position what would you have done?" Luwin replied calmly, his voice never leaving it's soft tone.

"I-" Erza pressed her lips together, "I-" Her fist balled up and then relaxed. A long sigh left her chest, "I don't know."

Luwin nodded and shuffled over to Erza, "Erza, Lord Stark is not a cruel man. He is not a vile one. And he is not one without mercy or sympathy. To be honest, he has been put in a very delicate situation given yours and Gray's circumstances, what with the desire and need to keep your true origins a well kept secret for now. The security that comes with that secret would have been lost had he pardoned Gray. People would have grown suspicious, especially since it was originally yourself who blocked the swing of Lord Stark's sword.

The North is not like the rest of Westeros. It's people are simple, good folk. But hard and prone to… having overactive imaginations. If those same people saw their Lord suddenly taking orders from a woman who only appeared in the realm recently, what would they think? Has their Lord gone mad? Is he following the advice of a mistress? Gods help us if they thought that, because then the Tullys and the Riverlands would almost certainly take offense whether the accusation was true or not. Has Lord Eddard Stark lost the ability to reason on his own and, instead of seeking experienced counsel, he instead relies on the whims of a knight he has employed to protect his children?" Erza remained silent as he spoke, "All of this went through Lord Stark's mind when he had to make the decision to sentence your friend. As well as the consequence of all such scenarios. The worst case being an uprising from one of his more powerful bannermen. A scenario that, with winter coming, cannot be allowed to happen else the North falls apart."

The anger that previously covered Erza's face had faded a little. But the old Maester could still see the frustration.

"I know I've said it many times before to you." Luwin said as he shuffled back to his desk, But I will say it again. This is not Fiore, or Earthland. This is Westeros. The closest to anyone thinking like an Earthlander you will find here is likely Lord Stark. From what I understand, people in your land have a sense of morality and justice that is very admirable. Unfortunately, the rest of Westeros is not that way. And it has taken many counselings and arguments in order to help Lord Stark see that as well. Other Lords will gladly step over the corpses of their rulers if it meant more power and wealth. To give them an opening to do that, no matter how small, is a very dangerous gamble. One that I advised Lord Stark not to take, and advise that he listened to in the end."

A loud caw came from outside and in flew a large black bird, surprising Erza and drawing a grin from Maester Luwin.

"Ah hello there." The old Maester commented as the raven perched on the edge of his desk, "You know there is a rookery right?"

The Raven cawed back at him. That was when the Maester noticed the piece of parchment strapped to its ankle. His wrinkled hand expertly snatched the parchment and he quickly unrolled it.

"Oh." He mumbled. Down in the yard below, the sounds of Lord Starks guards opening the gate for him rang loudly.

"What is it?" Erza asked, curious.

"A message," Luwin replied, "For Lord Stark… from the King."

Erza's eyes widened.

"Do you mind delivering it to him for me?" Her eyes narrowed at Luwin, "I am quite old and this is urgent."

Erza frowned, "You are just trying to get me to talk to him again." She grumbled before grabbed the message and marching towards the door.

"It would be best for you both if you did." Luwin called after her before the door slammed shut.

….

Ned sat alone in the Godswood, his mind lost in thought as he polished Ice, the sword that his family had wielded for generations. This was how he cleared his mind. The Godswood was a perfect place to do so. Despite its almost central location in Winterfell it somehow felt removed from the hustle and bustle of the castle. A place of perfect peace and serenity inside of the frozen walls that made up his home. The quiet trickling of water running across the brook he sat beside only helped to ease the stress he had been feeling. A stress that had an unknown cause.

It was as if the world had suddenly decided to throw its entire weight at him. A deep foreboding had overcome him in the past month, the first tremors of it rearing its head when Miss Scarlet first appeared. Then came the shattering of trust between him and her. He still was not sure if he made the right decision.

 _But it was the just decision._ He reminded himself. The law is the law. And as Warden of the North, he was sworn to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms.

Still, the foreboding only grew in the days after his decision to force Gray Fullbuster into taking the black. And now, today… the grisly sight of a freak of nature impaled in the neck by a stag's antler haunted him. It was supposed to be just a hunt, a day for him to be with his sons. To teach them and guide them in life. Instead, it had turned into a day filled with omens, both good and ill. And despite the joy his sons, especially Bran, displayed when they corralled those tiny furballs into their arms for the first time, he also could not help but keep his eyes on the mother. The massive direwolf… killed by a stag's antler.

Hullen had instantly named it an ill omen. The direwolf was the sigil of House Stark. But one had not been seen south of the wall in over two hundred years. And now, six were found in the Wolfswood. All of them pups.

 _And one dead mother._ He thought grimly, the rag in his hand absently gliding over the perfectly polished Valyrian steel that rested on his lap.

Footsteps crunching into the fallen leaves drew his attention back to the present.

"Ned?" The soft voice of his wife said.

Ned turned to see her walking into the Godswood. Her eyes briefly glancing over at the heart tree, and it's hideous face staring back at her, causing Lady Catelyn to avert her gaze.

"My lady." He replied stiffly.

Catelyn frowned, "First the my children bring home animals that even the kennel master refuses to train." She edged over to Ned and knelt down beside him, "And now my husband is quiet and staying the Godswood, acting as if a member of our family has died." Ned stared hard at her, "What is wrong Ned?"

The Lord of Winterfell remained stone faced, "Nothing Catelyn." Her replied, "Just… thinking."

"About what exactly?" He paused in his work on Ice.

"I-"

More footsteps cut him off. Both Catelyn and Ned turned to see, much to their surprise, Erza Scarlet striding into the godswood. Her brown eyes darted over to the Heart Tree and she seemed to hesitate as she entered the territory of the old gods. But then she took a silent breath and continued towards Ned.

"Later." Ned whispered to Catelyn, who merely nodded back. He then rose to his feet, letting Ice rest on the rock he was sitting on, "Good," He stated as Erza approached, "I was going to send for you."

"No need to apparently." Erza replied, her voice laced with a cold edge. Ned closed his eyes briefly. She was still furious.

Erza stopped in front of Lady Catelyn and held out a small parchment, "A message for you and Lord Stark. Maester Luwin said it was from the King."

Ned's somber demeanor switched instantly. Surprise rushed over his face before a look of disbelief filled him as he stared at the message.

"From Robert!?" He asked, stunned. Meanwhile Catelyn read the note, her face going from curious to grim, "What does it say?"

Catelyn folded the paper and gently gave it to her husband, "I'm so sorry Ned." She said softly, "But… it seems Lord Jon Arryn has passed away."

Ned's face went ashen. He took a step back, his lungs suddenly lacking air, "Jon is…"

Catelyn nodded. Erza could only remain silent as she watched Lord Stark lurch back and fall onto the rock once again, Ice by his side as he sat breathlessly beside the brook.

"How?" Ned asked, his voice choking for only a moment.

"A fever. It came on suddenly, or so this message says." Catelyn explained.

Ned ran a trembling hand through his beard. Jon Arryn was dead. The Hand to the King, a man who practically raised not only himself, but King Robert as well, was dead. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. The news sapping the strength from him. Not since the Rebellion had he felt so… he sucked in a quick breath of air while a young woman's voice echoed in the back of his mind.

"There is more." Catelyn continued, "The King rides for Winterfell." Ned stiffened, "Him, his family, and all of his servants."

"Robert is coming here!?" Ned said stunned.

Off to the side, Erza waited patiently, both unsure of what was occurring and realizing that this man who had died, this Jon Arryn, was close to Lord Stark. Silence seemed to be the respectful action to take. Even if she was still furious with him.

Ned's face stiffened, "That can only mean one thing."

"King's do not ride this far on a whim." Catelyn agreed, "Do you think he intends to name you-"

"I do not doubt it." Ned replied, the mask of a man who had lost a friend disappearing and being replaced by the mask of the Lord of Winterfell, "Did it say how many days we had to prepare?"

"They are nearing Moat Cailin as we speak." Catelyn explained, "That is all the message said."

"Moat Cailin!?" Ned's eyes widened as he spoke, "Already! He moves fast even with his household in tow!" He paused, "His household in tow… the Lannisters will be with him."

"And most likely the Queen will have brought her brothers."

Ned's jaw stiffened and he turned to Erza, "It is even more fortunate that you are here then."

Erza raised an eyebrow, "I think I'm missing something here?"

"King Robert is riding to Winterfell, most likely to name Ned his new Hand to the King since Jon Arryn has passed away." Catelyn explained, "Robert's wife if Cersei Lannister. And the Lannisters-"

"Are not to be trusted." Ned said harshly, "Erza… I assume with all of that time you have spent in Luwin's library, you have familiarized yourself with our recent history."

Erza nodded, "As much as I could."

"Then you are familiar with the sacking of King's Landing during Robert's Rebellion?"

Erza gulped. Yes… she remembered reading about that. And she remember being absolutely appalled by it. The barbarism and horror the accounts of that dreadful day spoke of made her stomach churn even now. She nodded in reply.

"That was the Lannister's work." Ned continued, "Tywin Lannister led that attack. His son, Jamie, betrayed and killed the King he was sworn to protect. And no doubt Cersei has inherited their tendency for treachery." He rose to his feet, "I do not trust the Lannisters. I never will. And I would be foolish to trust them to be near my children without eyes on them at all times. I know you are wishing to strike out on your own in search of your guildmates, but…" He glanced at the Heart Tree then back at Erza, "I won't be able to spare any men to look out for my children. You may not trust me after… after what has happened. I do not blame you if you don't. But please, do not let your anger at me affect how you look after my children."

"And why would I let that affect my work?" Erza replied, "This is a job for me, Lord Stark. I take my jobs very seriously and I see them through. If you do not trust these Lannisters, then I will make sure my eyes will be on your children at all times while they are here."

Ned let out a small sigh of relief then nodded, "Thank you."

"Yes." Catelyn breathed, "Thank you." She then took a deep breath, "Well then, the King is riding here. And we do not have much time to prepare. I will… start making the preparations. There is much to do." Lady Catelyn began to march out of the Godswood, "And so little time to do it." She continued before disappearing from sight.

Ned quickly followed her, sheathing Ice as he exited the Godswood. Erza remained behind a moment, her mind still processing what was going on.

 _The King rides here._ She thought, _And he is bringing his family who the Starks do not like._ She grimaced, _Oh this is going to be just great isn't it!?_ She turned on her heel and marched towards the castle, _Better find Bran and Arya so I can lay down some ground rules. Who knows what trouble those two will cause if I don't._

 **And chapter! Sorry for the wait on this everyone! I'm doing my best to get these out because I really enjoy writing this story! BUT… I am also starting work on a completely original project (Writer's block finally broke!). Good timing too, my seasonal job is done this week so that means I'll have a ton of time on my hands to write. Which means I will definitely be able to keep up with this story and possibly update more frequently.**

 **And also, HOLY CRAP HAS THIS STORY GOTTEN POPULAR SO FAR! And so fast too! That's amazing (honestly wasn't expecting that at all!) and I am so grateful! You guys help me out so much and give me the motivation to keep trying my best to deliver great work. And for that I am super thankful and I hope the story continues to entertain and impress.**

 **Anyways, let me know what you guys think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	21. Lucy II

**HELLO EVERYBODY! I apologize for the loooooong delay for a new chapter. I've been focused on other projects recently (Shameless plug in time: It's my Fairy Tail Star wars crossover and my original novel that I was working on.) I decided to rest for a little bit when it came to this story. I actually did plan on updating way sooner too, but life decided to kick me and my family in the balls for a couple weeks. I'm not gonna go into details, but needless to say, i've been pretty damn busy. But I'm ready to go with this one again, so here's a new chapter! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Lucy

Lucy folded her arms over her chest and huffed.

"This is taking forever." She complained. She glanced over to her left to see Melisandre sitting calmly in a chair near the inn's fireplace. Her face and demeanor as enigmatic and stoic as ever.

Honestly, it frustrated the blonde to no end. Only a few days ago, Melisandre gladly revealed the answers to many of her questions. She happily (if the small, mischievous smirks she wore the entire time counted as happy) revealed to Lucy the existence of some great, all powerful being known as the Lord of Light. And she cryptically told her that the Great Other comes, and the Long Night comes with him. All of which was great and all. But in all honesty, Lucy just wanted to know how she could get home.

She could care less about the threat known as the Great Other. The Lord of Light did not interest her. And she cared even less about the supposed meeting the two were supposed to have with Lord Stannis Baratheon. If that meeting ever actually came that is. It had been several days and still no word from the man. All was quiet when it came to the black fortress known as Dragonstone and the events that occurred within its rocky walls. Lucy was starting to get the impression that Melisandre in fact didn't have a meeting scheduled with this Lord Stannis Baratheon.

In fact, the red woman did the opposite of being proactive when it came to the matter. Instead she went out into the village every day when the sun rose and when the sun set, leading what appeared to be some sort of religious service that Lucy could hardly understand. Mostly because she was tired from being woken up at the crack of dawn and from not being allowed to nap during the day. Add in the boredom of sitting along a literal religious nutcase that didn't speak ninety percent of the time, and Lucy's patience was starting to wear dangerously thin.

"Hey," She glanced over at a quiet Melisandre, her brown eyes staring into the flames. No doubt doing her _seeing_ , or whatever strange magic it was, "Are you even listening to me?"

"You need to learn patience, Lucy Heartfilia." Melisandre replied monotonously, "It will serve you well later in life."

Lucy frowned, "I'm plenty patient."

"Really?" The red woman finally cast her a sidelong glance, "Was I just imagining the constant complaining from the past few days?"

"I-well-you just-"

Melisandre smirked, "I thought not." She turned her eyes back to the flames, "You cannot just demand an audience from a Lord of Westeros, Lucy. Right now we are not important enough for that. But we soon will be."

Lucy arched an eyebrow, "How do you know that?"

"Lady Selyse is a devout follower of the Lord of Light. I have no doubts that when she is informed of our presence here on Dragonstone, she will instantly demand to see us."

"But… but we've been here for four days." Lucy pointed out, "And you've been doing your, I don't know, preaching twice a day every day. How could she not know we are here?"

"Because she is surrounded by those who do not call R'hllor Lord." Melisandre replied, "They wish to keep his truths, his wisdom, his light from reaching the ears of those powerful enough to make his will a reality. But, they cannot keep us from Lord and Lady Baratheon forever. The Lord of Light has chosen Stannis Baratheon. Similar to how He has chosen you."

Lucy furrowed her brow, "You know, you keep saying that to me. But I," She shook her head, "I still don't understand. I'm not even from this world. So how could some mystical being from this world choose me for some grand purpose?"

Melisandre tore her gaze away from the flames, "Who are you to say that this is the only realm the Lord of Light resides in?"

Lucy opened her mouth to reply but then felt her lips press together. She did not have an answer for that one. And so, without the ability to retort the red woman, Lucy leaned back in her seat, allowing the fire to warm her body.

For an island, Dragonstone was a surprisingly frigid place. The winds that whipped around the black spire of rock always carried a frozen edge to it that cut through the cloak Lucy had like a knife. The salty spray from the narrow sea didn't help much either. The waves would crash against the many rock outcroppings of the island and toss enormous jets of water up onto the flat land that rested atop the many bluffs and cliffs of the island. Melisandre liked to visit these cliffs and gaze out at the rising and setting sun, usually after she did her daily preaching. No matter what, it was freezing. And when the pair would return to the inn, Lucy would be drenched, her teeth would be chattering behind her lips, and her arms would be shivering. So the fire in the inn was always something Lucy welcomed. It made her day just a little better.

Somehow, Melisandre was never bothered by the cold. It was a curious thing for Lucy. She would get hit by the same amount of ocean spray. Be battered by the same, frigid winds that blasted the island. And yet, Melisandre did not flinch. And her clothes always remained completely dry.

"What's your secret?" Lucy finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Hm?"

"Your secret? What is it?"

"I fail to understand what you mean." Melisandre replied.

Lucy rolled her eyes and leaned forward, "You're never cold for one. Also, you never get wet from the ocean. You don't ever seem tired, unlike me. And you hardly ever eat. You do all of these things and yet, you never look… strange."

Melisandre gave her a soft smile, "I suppose it would be rather perplexing for someone unfamiliar with the Lord's graces to see such things."

Lucy arched an eyebrow, "You mean to tell me that the Lord of Light does all of that?"

Melisandre nodded.

"Did the Lord of Light also tell you about me?" Lucy asked, "About where I am from?"

That question caught Melisandre off guard. Lucy could see Melisandre's mind working. Attempting to come up with an appropriate answer for such a direct and unexpected question.

"He did… somewhat." Melisandre replied. Lucy could hear the slight hesitation in her voice.

"Spill it." Lucy demanded, "How do you know about me? How do you know about Earthland?"

Melisandre smirked at Lucy. A smirk that spoke a thousand words. It told Lucy that the red woman knew far more than she was letting on. It was a smirk that belittled the blonde, yet at the same time seemed almost pleased that Lucy was daring to ask such questions. But it also told Lucy that she was not going to get the answers she wanted. Instead of replying, Melisandre rose to her feet.

"I believe now is an appropriate time for us to go to the castle."

Lucy blinked, "But-But you just-"

The door to the inn opened then quietly shut. Three guardsmen, wearing chain mail and the crowned stag of House Baratheon, came marching in. All three immediately approached Lucy and Melisandre.

"Are you the two women from Asshai?" One guard asked.

His tone was… fearful? Lucy shook her head. Of course it was fearful. Melisandre herself told her that the people of Westeros were not very receptive of those who preached the religion of R'hllor. They viewed the red priests and priestesses as witches and warlocks. Monsters from a distant land where demons ran free among fields of ghost grass. And while Lucy would hardly call Melisandre a monster, she couldn't help but also have her own misgivings regarding the red priestess. She just seemed so… distant, aloof. Like she knew everything that was going on, knew how to solve any problem that may come, and was smugly aware that no one else was capable of doing anything to best her. And despite her vast knowledge and abilities, she only shared what she felt was necessary. She did not seem like the type to make friends. Melisandre was the type of person Lucy would actively avoid if possible. Her entire demeanor was unsettling.

"We are." Melisandre replied to the guardsman.

The man gulped then nodded, "You both are to come with us. Lord Stannis and Lady Selyse wish to speak with you."

Lucy's jaw fell open as the guards turned towards the door and began to march away with Melisandre in tow. Just before reaching the door, the red woman turned back to Lucy.

"Well, are you coming?" She asked.

Lucy shook herself out of her stunned stupor. How the hell did Melisandre know that the Lord and Lady of Dragonstone would want to see them now? It boggled Lucy's mind.

"Y-yes!" Lucy stammered, jumping to her feet and leaving the comforts of her cozy chair and fire behind.

….

The massive fortress of Dragonstone was just as dour as the rest of the island. The outer walls and keep were both constructed from the same black, coarse stone that covered the rest of the island. It gave the massive fortress an ominous, oppressive feel. When Lucy walked through the great iron gates and into the main courtyard, she did not feel like she entered the palace of some great Lord or King. Rather, she felt like she entered the domain of a warrior.

There were no gardens in the castle. Just black stone, dark dirt, and men training in the castle yard. Some strung bows and fired arrow after arrow into straw targets several yards away. Others bashed blunted swords and shields against each other. All the while, above them, standing near the entry of the great fortress, was a man with a balding head ringed with rough grey hair and a neat grey beard. Eyes as cold as the deepest waters of the Narrow Sea surveyed the men in the yard then fell onto Lucy and Melisandre as they made their way into the fortress. It was an icy gaze that made Lucy shiver.

The three guards brought Lucy and Melisandre up to the man. When they got close, Lucy saw he was tall and broad shouldered. Clearly a man built for war. His face appeared taut, like cured leather. The skin pulled over hollow cheeks and a strong jaw.

Despite the terrifying reputation of the red priestesses, the man hardly blinked when Melisandre and Lucy approached. Melisandre smile then bowed low. Lucy hesitated, then did the same, although far more awkwardly than Melisandre.

"Lord Stannis Baratheon." Melisandre said, "It is an honor to finally meet you in person. My name is Melisandre of Asshai."

Lucy's eyes widened. This man was Lord Stannis Baratheon? The way Melisandre spoke of him, Lucy expected some young man, strong and handsome. Fearless and powerful. A genuine hero from the stories she loved to read. But this man was hardly any of those things. True, he looked strong. Lucy could see from how he carried himself that he was a man who fought for what he had, and fought hard for it. At the same time though, he appeared to be an incredibly stern figure. His face showing hardly any emotion as Melisandre and Lucy stood before him.

Melisandre tapped Lucy's chest, pulling the blonde out of her thoughts.

"Oh!" Lucy smiled sheepishly to the man, "I'm um… Lucy Heartfilia. It is a um… a pleasure to meet you um… sir."

Melisandre closed her eyes and sighed. Meanwhile Lucy cringed.

 _I completely screwed that up! Oh no! What will happen now! This guy doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would take me addressing him incorrectly lightly!_ She felt beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead.

Lord Stannis Baratheon narrowed his eyes at Lucy. The blond gulped.

"I haven't been called ser in quite some time, Miss Heartfilia." He replied, his voice rough, laced with an icy edge, "I cannot fault you for it. You are from Asshai after all. And, if I have been informed correctly, you are simply a student of Lady Melisandre's?"

Lucy quickly nodded.

"She is indeed, my Lord. Please forgive her… bad habits." Melisandre replied delicately, "She is still a long ways from becoming a red priestess herself."

The comment hardly elicited a reaction from Lord Stannis. He didn't even grunt in response. Instead he turned back to watching his men train in the yard.

"How do they look?" He asked.

Lucy pursed her lips, "Uh…"

"Well trained, my Lord." Melisandre replied, cutting off Lucy as quickly as she could, "A fine fighting force. If that is what they are meant to be of course."

Lord Stannis nodded, "That they are. A Lord is not a Lord without men who can properly defend his lands."

"So this is a fighting force?" Melisandre asked.

"What else would it be?" Stannis replied gruffly.

"I mean you no offense, Lord Stannis." Melisandre replied, "I just find it curious that the Lord of Dragonstone would so rigorously train his army when no conflict is on the horizon."

Lord Stannis stared hard at Melisandre. He then drew back from the stone railing he was standing near and strode towards the doors that led to the inside of the castle. As he walked by Melisandre and Lucy, he waved for them to follow.

The doors of Dragonstone groaned inwards, revealing a dimly lit grand hall with an intimidating stone seat at the very end, elevated on a black stone dais. Lucy expected Lord Stannis to march right up to the throne and lounge in it while he spoke to her and Melisandre. That's what all noblemen in fantasy stories did, right?

But to Lucy's surprise, Stannis strode right past the throne, shoving open another set of doors that led to series of dim corridors. Melisandre and Lucy closely followed as he marched through the corridors to a final set of doors. He pushed those open as well, revealing a room that Lucy couldn't help but marvel at.

It was another main hall, far more magnificent to Lucy than the other one. While the first great hall was plain to look at, consisting of only a stone throne and torches, this one held bookcases. Bookcases everywhere. Each one filled to brim with scrolls, parchments, and tomes. And in the very center of the room, was a marvelous table carved in the shape of the massive continent of Westeros. Little wood and stone pieces marked each city and landmark. At a city called Winterfell, rested a wolf's head. At Lannisport, a Lion's head. High Garden, a rose. Sunspear, a blazing sun; Riverrun, a fish; Storm's End, a stag. But at the city marked King's Landing, there was nothing. No marker at all.

Stannis marched around the table before turning to face Melisandre and Lucy.

"I hear that your council is highly regarded among the Lords of Essos."

Melisandre bowed her head, "We do what we can to provide the Lord's wisdom and guidance to those who seek it."

Stannis nodded, his thin lips tightening before speaking again, "And my wife… she holds great faith in your R'hllor." He spoke the name with a measure of distaste that could not be hidden from the likes of Melisandre and Lucy. But neither recoiled from it. Instead, Melisandre took it in stride.

"She is a wise woman indeed then." Melisandre replied, "The Lord of Light only wishes the best for his followers."

Stannis furrowed his brow then stared at the table, "Do you know what this is?"

Melisandre nodded while Lucy quietly listened.

"This is the Painted Table. Aegon the Conqueror himself used it when he conquered the Seven Kingdoms."

"That he did." Stannis nodded.

"Only kings see this table." Melisandre continued.

"And only kings have ever had the opportunity to use it."

Lucy's gaze moved back and forth as the pair spoke. But her mind couldn't shake the fact that there was nothing on the city marked King's Landing. From what she could gather, King's Landing was the capital of the Seven Kingdoms that made up Westeros. It was where the King and Queen ruled from. Surely a marker of some sort had to be there. Just as places like Winterfell, Lannisport, and Sunspear did.

"Why is there no peice for King's Landing?" Lucy suddenly blurted out. She swiftly slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she accidentally spoke aloud.

Stannis glanced over at Melisandre, "A direct one isn't she?"

"She has yet to learn patience, as I keep reminding her." Melisandre said.

A faint smirk crossed over Stannis' face for just a brief moment before it quickly disappeared, "Well, Miss Heartfilia. To answer your question, there is no piece on King's Landing because King's Landing is about to become a battle ground. A city that needs to be claimed." He glanced at Melisandre, "Jon Arryn, Hand to the King, was pronounced dead. A fever, or so Grand Maester Pycelle and the Lannisters claim." He grimaced, "I know better. My brother, the fool of a King he is, is content with turning a blind eye to the storm that is gathering around the seven kingdoms. I however am not. Jon Arryn shared with me, that he had reason to believe that the King's sons were not his own. That the Queen is passing off her own bastards as King Robert's flesh and blood. If this were true, that means they have no legitimate claim to throne. And-"

"And that puts the Lannister's grip on power in jeopardy." Melisandre finished for him.

Stannis nodded, "Exactly. Jon Arryn and I started asking questions. I left before they could silence me too." He took a deep breath, "I warned that old man. This was not something he could simply bring to the King and Queen's attention. King Robert would simply deny it. Queen Cersei would attempt to have him killed. And Tywin Lannister…" Lucy wasn't sure if she was seeing things or not, but it seemed like Stannis actually shuddered for a moment, "His retribution for such an accusation would be swift and bloody. I told Lord Arryn that we had to use this information not as evidence in a trial, but as leverage against the Lannisters. He did not listen to me. And now, he is dead. And a bastard is set to take the throne when my brother dies. Which I have no doubt will be soon.

I have sought the counsel of the seven, the counsel of my maester, I've even sought the counsel of those tree gods the Stark's in the North cling to. And yet, I have not been given anything to work with. My wife insists on consulting with your order. So…" He nodded to both Lucy and Melisandre.

"You wish to know what the Lord of Light may have in store for you?" Melisandre asked.

"Yes."

A wide grin came across Melisandre's face, "I am glad to hear you have come to this conclusion Lord Stannis. For it is true, you will not receive guidance from the Seven or from the Old Gods. They are falsehoods. The Lord of Light is the one true god. The only one that holds the darkness at bay. He has given me glimpses of what is to come," She narrowed her gaze on Stannis, "And _you_ are to be his champion. You are correct, there is war coming. Not just for an iron throne, but for life itself. And in order for the Lord's will to be defended, you must come to sit on the Iron Throne. You must rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I am fully prepared to assist you in that endeavor."

Lucy remained silent as she observed Lord Stannis. He did not reply to Melisandre. Instead, he seemed entirely lost in his thoughts. Eyes roving the Painted Table before settling once again, on the empty King's Landing.

"You may leave now." He commanded.

Lucy blinked, "Wait but-"

"Of course, your grace." Melisandre bowed, "Come Lucy."

Lucy hesitated, glanced back at a clearly troubled Stannis, before quickly following Melisandre out of the room.

"What was that all about?" Lucy asked in a hushed voice.

"That is what I saw in the flames, Lucy." Melisandre replied, "It is why I demanded you to be patient. The Lord reveals all in due time. And it took some time for me to be able to piece together what is to come.

But this is it. Azor Ahai is to return. And the Lord of Light has chosen Lord Stannis to be him. He will stand against the Long Night, with the might Lightbringer in hand. But in order for him to battle the Great Other, he needs a Kingdom at his back. And we will help give him that Kingdom."

Lucy stared incredulously at Melisandre.

 _What?_ Lucy thought, _I didn't sign up for this! I just want to find the others and get home. How did I get involved in all of this religious stuff?_

"Hey Melisandre."

"Yes Lucy."

"Do you have any idea how insane that sounds? Azor Ahai, Lightbringer, Great Other, I couldn't care less about any of that. I just want to get home!"

The pair exited the castle and strode across the courtyard. But before they reached the outer gate, Melisandre stopped and faced Lucy, a grave look etched on her pale face.

"If you do not help in this fight Lucy, it will be impossible for you to ever return home."

 **And chapter! This was an interesting one to write. In GOT, we don't really know what Stannis is up to during the time between Jon Arryn's death and the second book, A Clash of Kings. All we know is that he somehow came in contact with Melisandre and wham!, he follows the Lord of Light! So, I decided to add my own little spin to that. I hope it was good. And it appears Lucy is getting dragged into this entire conflict against her will. Should be interesting to see how she reacts to what is going to happen. Anyways, let me know what you guys think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	22. Erza VII

**Hello everybody! Back with another chapter! Enjoy!**

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

Steel clashed loudly against steel. Sweat and rain dripped down from Erza's brow as her muscles strained against Jon's sword. Inches away from her, Jon Snow was just as disheveled. His curly black hair tousled, tangled, and plastered against his forehead. His beard matted down with sweat and grime. Eyes weary yet focused as their blades grinded together. The metal shrieked as the two yanked their blades away and created distance.

Erza spun, her heel sinking into the soft mud beneath her. Her arm whipped out, her sword cutting a deadly arc towards Jon's neck. But her friend saw it coming. He jerked his head back, the tip of the blade narrowly missing his throat. Jon then lunged forward, surprising the red haired warrior and causing her to hop backwards through the mud and rain.

Erza deftly parried Jon's blade to the side before sliding her blade up to his pommel. Their faces were mere inches apart now. A mask of concentration and strain covered Jon's face. Erza could feel a smile growing on hers.

He was getting very good. Their early morning training sessions were working. Jon's improvement was enormous. He was faster, stronger, more agile than when the pair first started sparring together. Before he would swing his sword like he was swinging an axe. Each blow aiming to cut his opponent in two. Erza deemed it effective if he was fighting an inferior opponent. It was a quick way to cut down a grunt.

But she was the furthest thing from inferior. And after several thrashings, Jon figured out that the art of swordsmanship was not just bashing your blade against your enemies as hard as you could. It involved footwork, maneuvering, leverage. Predicting what your opponent was going to do and countering. Studying your enemy. Learning their tendencies, their habits, and using that knowledge to gain the upper hand. Battle wasn't about who was the strongest, although that certainly helped. A duel was about who was the the better swordsmen, in all aspects of the art.

Jon was beginning to become a true artist. As he twirled his blade and sent a quick three slash strike at Erza, the red head could only grin in delight. After several months, he was finally beginning to challenge her.

Erza could see Jon notice this. He could see that she was on her heels. That he was catching her off balance, parrying her just right, forcing the red head to retreat in order to regroup and start her own attack. But Jon resolved not to allow that. He pressed his advantage, launching a flurry of strikes at his opponent.

Erza had backed herself up to one of the castle walls. Jon's blade locked with Erza's and he shoved his weight forward, forcing Erza's back against the stones behind her.

Erza's grin only grew wider. Yes, Jon had gotten very good. But he still lacked in one area.

Erza shifted her foot and placed it behind Jon's ankle. She then shoved Jon's blade violently to the side, causing it to smash against stone. Sparks spat at them as the steel slid along the walls of Winterfell. As Jon reeled, Erza smacked her elbow into his chin. He stumbled backwards, falling over her foot and landing hard on his back. The wind left his lungs, his head swam, then he felt cold steel touch his throat.

"I win." Erza breathed, her chest heaving up and down, a wide smile on her face.

Jon groaned and let his head fall to the mud. The cold steel left his throat and he exhaled.

"Dammit!" he bellowed, causing Erza to chuckle. He jerked his head up and watched as she walked back over to where the straw practice dummies stood, "I had you there."

Erza glanced back at him, "You did. But then you didn't. So you lost."

Jon finally sat up. He could feel a small trickle of blood coming from his lip.

"You had to split my lip today?"

"Hm?" Erza looked back as Jon slowly got his feet, "Every wound-"

"Is a lesson, yes I know. But you do know what tomorrow is don't you?" Jon asked.

Erza raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"King Robert is supposed to arrive tomorrow." Erza's face remained nonchalant, "And we agreed to take it easier this morning so that we could both look presentable when he arrived."

Erza shrugged, "From what I hear, King Robert is a great warrior. He'll probably see that little gash and nod in approval."

Jon snorted, "Until he finds out I got it from you."

"Oh?" Erza replied as more rain pelted against her armor. "And what does that mean? Do I have to teach another highborn a lesson?"

Jon couldn't help but laugh, "As much as many would like to see that, I highly doubt it would happen. And not because King Robert wouldn't want to fight you. From what I've heard, the man loves to fight more than he likes to rule."

Erza snorted as her hands moved to the straps of her armor. She felt her fingers fumble with the buckles and she frowned. Despite being without her magic for several months now, she still had not gotten used to removing her armor the old fashioned way. Every now and then she still found herself attempting to call on her requip magic. She would feel a slight buzz in her limbs, then she would feel exhausted. Her sudden weariness reminding her where she was and why she had to take time to remove her armor manually. It frustrated her tremendously.

"Need some help there?" Jon asked before he grabbed a skin of water and drank deeply.

"I'll be fine." Erza replied, finally undoing the last buckle and strap. She then pulled the large set of armor over her head, held it so it would not fall into the mud, before setting it gently down on a pile of straw. She then reached over to one of the straw dummies and plucked a rag from it's head. She then knelt down and began to wipe the water and grime from her armor.

As Erza worked, Jon couldn't help but feel his cheeks heat up a little bit. Sure, he had seen Erza without her armor before. During bad weather like this, she would constantly fret about making sure the armor was properly cared for. That meant she would remove it after one of their sessions and set about cleaning it right in the middle of the yard. Beneath that armor was a simple white blouse that revealed much more of Erza's figure to him. And every time, Jon would catch his eyes wandering before he would quickly smack himself and return his attention to the skin of water in his hands.

"Why do you do that?" Jon finally asked.

"Do what?"

"Clean your armor so much?"

"If you take care of your armor it will take care of you." Erza replied. Her brown eyes glanced back at Jon, "Plus this is the only set I have right now. I intend to make it last as long as I can, what with you and I constantly putting dents in it."

"Those dents aren't _that_ bad." Jon argued.

"To you." Erza argued back. Jon just shook his head. There was no point in arguing armor with Erza Scarlet. That was definitely a battle he could not win.

"I hear that the King's family will be arriving with him tomorrow." Erza said.

"Aye." Jon nodded, "And all of their Knights. And all of their servants. And all of their Knight's servants." Jon shook his head and gulped another large drink of water, "I don't know how we are going to house them all."

"It'll be a bit of squeeze." Erza began to roughly scrub a section of her armor where mud had started to cake onto the steel, "But I'm sure your family will manage."

"Oh yes. And I know how." Jon said, irritation filling his voice.

"I can sleep outdoors." Erza replied, knowing where Jon was taking the conversation, "I've done it before. I can do it again. There's something peaceful about sleeping beneath the stars at night."

"But what about sleeping in the cold and rain?" Jon asked.

She shrugged, "You get used to it after a couple hours." She gave her armor another wipe down with the now filthy rag before nodding to herself and picking the suit up. She then carefully slipped it back over her head. Before her head disappeared into the armor, she noticed the anxious look on Jon's face, "What's the matter Jon? Afraid of sleeping in the cold?" She teased.

"No!" Jon replied defensively while the red head chuckled to herself, "It's just-" He pursed his lips, "Nothing."

Erza shifted her armor on her shoulders then started fumbling with the straps, "Doesn't sound like nothing to me." A curse slipped from her lips as she lost her grip on a soaking, leather strap.

Jon sighed then moved over and grabbed the strap before easily buckling it for her.

"Thank you." Erza said before moving some of her hair from her face. She could see Jon was still worried about something. That or nervous. He took after his father. Lord Stark rarely displayed emotion. And when he did, it was difficult to discern what he was feeling. Jon was the same. "Alright, spill it."

"Spill what?"

"What's bothering you?" Erza asked as she fell back into the pile of straw, choosing to rest for a moment before going up to the Maester's tower and seeing if any Ravens had arrived with news of strange occurrences.

Jon clenched his jaw and sighed, "My Uncle Benjen is supposedly arriving today as well."

Erza looked at Jon confused, "He's family right? So isn't that a good thing?"

Jon only gave a partial nod, "I'm happy to see him again, don't get me wrong. It's just…" Erza saw him bow his head, "Uncle Benjen is First Ranger of the Night's Watch." As soon as he said those words, Erza's face fell, "He will be here as the Night's Watch representative to greet King Robert. Then-"

"Then he will take Gray to the Wall." Erza finished, her voice going cold.

Jon nodded, "Aye, he'll take Gray to the Wall." His jaw clenched tighter, "And me with him, hopefully." He finished under his breath.

But Erza heard him. Her eyes widened as she stared wide eyed at Jon, "What?"

Jon let out a long sigh, "I'm going to ask my Uncle if I can join the Night's Watch."

Erza already could feel her head shaking in fury, "Jon if this is because of how you think your family feels about you-"

"It's not something I think, it's something I know." Jon shot back, "I'm not wanted here Erza."

"Tell that to Robb and Arya." Erza spat.

"Tell that to Lady Stark." Jon spat back.

Erza jumped to her feet, "So, you are going to go to the Wall. Join a military force made of criminals-"

"They're not all criminals." Jon interrupted.

"Whatever! You are still going there. And what are you going to do. Sit on top of a frozen block of ice. Fight some wildlings every now and then. Freeze to death!" Erza felt her neck muscles grow tight, "Maybe be killed by whatever Gray ran into."

"The Others are not real Erza." Jon replied.

"And Direwolves south of wall aren't real either." Erza argued back as she saw Jon's small Direwolf pup, a little ball of white fur named Ghost, pawing his way into the yard to join the pair.

"No but they do exist north of the Wall, unlike White Walkers." Jon replied. He felt Ghost nuzzled his leg before the pup decided to sit as his feet, "Direwolves have always existed, unlike White Walkers."

"So you are calling Gray a liar?" Erza said, her voice now trembling with fury.

"No. What I'm saying is he may have saw something he didn't understand. You said so yourself he was most likely disoriented when he arrived in this world. Who's to say what he saw wasn't some old wildling."

"Because a normal human would not scare him like that."

Jon was about to argue back when he bit his lip, "Erza, I'm not changing my mind on this. There is… great honor in joining the Night's Watch."

He felt Ghost jump to his feet. Jon glanced down to see what the pup was doing. He saw Ghost start to snarl. Then he heard the hiss of steel in the air. Jon looked up and saw Erza taking a wild swing at his head with her sword. He cried out and fell backwards.

"What are you doing!?"

Erza said nothing. She just drove her sword downwards. Jon's eyes widened and he rolled to his left. The blade barely missed him and it sank down into the mud.

Jon scrambled to his feet, unsheathing his own blade and barely catching a blazing fast series of hacks and slashes that Erza unleashed on him. Each blow hammered against his sword, causing his arms to buzz. His feet slipped in the mud again and he fell onto his back. Ghost howled in fury as Erza smacked Jon's blade to the side before driving her sword down at his head. Jon squeezed his eyes shut.

He heard the blade bury itself in the mud beside his right ear. He could feel a small cut opening up along the top of his earlobe, warm blood now covering his frozen ear. Above him, brown eyes stared down at him. Pure fury etched inside of them. He had never seen Erza like this. She had gotten angry with him before. But she had never been like this. She had never attacked him so fast. She had never swung her sword so powerfully. Jon could feel genuine fear in his gut as he stared up at the red haired warrior.

"That," Erza snarled, "is what awaits you at the Wall."

Erza let her sword go, leaving it beside Jon's head. She then turned on her heel and marched towards the Maester's tower. All the while, Ghost stood at Jon's side and snarled.

….

It was always colder in the dungeons beneath Winterfell. Erza could see her breath misting in front of her as she marched down stone stairs towards a reinforced iron door. In front of the door stood two men wearing the Stark direwolf on their armor. Both seemed to be casually talking to each other. Discussing the King's imminent arrival no doubt. But as soon as they saw Erza marching towards them, they both stiffened.

Erza came to a stop in front of them. She grew even more disgruntled as one of them inched closer to the door, trying to block her from entering.

"Out of my way." Erza growled.

Both guards glanced at each other. Then one finally spoke up.

"Sorry miss, no one allowed in the dungeons. Lord Stark's orders. He does not want to risk an escape before King Robert's arrival."

"Let me rephrase what I said." Erza's fist flew forward and hit the guard's nose with a loud pop. The poor man's eyes fluttered and he slumped to the floor. Meanwhile the other guard gulped and stared fearfully at the angry red head in front of him.

"Am I clear?" Erza asked.

The second guard nodded. He quickly unlocked the door.

"You got five minutes miss." He muttered as he stepped out of Erza's way.

"That's all I need." Erza replied sharply.

The door clicked shut behind her. Then the sound of a lock turning echoed through the dungeon. Erza let out a long breath then marched down the hall that ran along multiple cells made of chipped stone and iron bars. They were all empty. Crime was a rarity in Winterfell. Most people depended on each other to survive. The idea of taking advantage of a fellow villager was almost unheard of, unthinkable even. With how harsh the climate was, if the people did not band together then they all would've starved long ago. It was something that Erza found quite impressive. Even her home, Fiore, had its fair share of criminal scum. Apprehending said criminals were always some of her most dangerous quests as a guild wizard.

She did pass one cell that had a lone occupant in it. A man caught stealing a goat from a farm near the Wolfswood. He was given a choice, his hand or the wall. Erza saw that he was rubbing his palms together for warmth. Seems he made his choice.

Erza came to stop at the last cell on the left. Every time she saw him sitting inside of a cell she could feel anger burning inside of her. Gray seemed miserable. His back was turned to the cell door as he lay on the cold ground. Even though Lord Stark promised he would be treated well, he was still sleeping on rock. He was still eating what amounted to cabbage soup and bread. Erza could already tell he looked a good deal thinner than when the pair ended up here in Westeros.

"Gray." She whispered.

The Ice make mage stirred and he rolled over.

"Hey Erza." He replied with a small smile, "Good to see you again."

"I come down here everyday." Erza replied with a small smile of her own, "It's not like you don't see me."

"I don't see anyone else during the day." Gray sat up, rolling his shoulders. A couple loud cracks rang out and he winced a little, "It's nice to have someone to talk to."

"YOU WON'T TALK TO ME!" A voice down the hall called. It was the goat thief.

"SHUT UP!" Gray snapped back. He then sighed and looked back to Erza, "So, anything new?"

She shook her head, "Nothing."

"How the hell is Flame Brain being so damn quiet?"

Erza shrugged, "I have a feeling Lucy is with him. And if that is the case, she's probably keeping him in line."

Gray snorted, "Lucy may have a short temper with Natsu, but he doesn't listen to her."

"Really?"

Gray nodded, "If anything, her anger at him urges him onward. He's gotta think it's some sort of game."

"Natsu is not that simple Gray." Erza replied as she took a seat at the cell door.

Gray shrugged, "Eh, perhaps you're right. After all, he's restraining himself now. In a world like this, I'd say that's pretty impressive." Erza saw his jaw clench, "That or-"

"No." Erza replied vehemently, "He wouldn't go down that easy. None of us would."

"But our magic-"

"Is not totally gone." Erza replied, "You said so yourself, your magic was powerful near the Wall. And I can still feel it from time to time." Erza sighed, "Besides, Natsu gets his power from fire. So, he's the most likely to have his magic. After all, he powers up by eating the stuff."

Gray nodded, "I forgot about that. Maybe you're right. It's just…" He grit his teeth, "It's getting harder and harder to believe everything is ok."

Erza closed her eyes, "I know. Believe me, I know. The more days that go by, the more I worry. I do believe Natsu would be able to fend for himself. Lucy has enough wits about her to do the same. Mira…" Erza frowned, "I'm not sure about Mira. I think she's too kind for her own good."

"Cana might actually fit in around here."

"How so?"

"I seem to recall you telling me how most of the guardsmen act when they're off duty." Gray leaned back, "Getting into fights at taverns. Drinking the night away." He chuckled, "Sounds like a normal night for Cana."

Erza laughed, "Yes, it does."

"And I don't think you should worry about Levy. She's, what, the smartest in the guild right?" Gray watched as Erza's brow furrowed. Concern etched onto her face, causing new lines to form that weren't there before.

"That leaves Wendy." Erza replied, her voice hushed as she spoke.

Gray frowned, "Yeah, that leaves her." He leaned forward, "She's a dragon slayer too you know. If she's anything like Ash Mouth, she'll be fine."

"But she is not Gray. She is shy, she is unsure of herself, and she is timid. She's not a fighter like the rest of us. And if Lord Stark and Winterfell is Westeros' finest, and she is not here, then where is she? Or worse, who is she with?" Erza shook her head, "I can't help but be afraid for them." She shuddered, "And I'm very afraid for you."

Gray arched an eyebrow, "I'm way stronger than Squinty Eyes."

Erza laughed out loud, "You know, if he was here, Natsu would try to beat the ever living crap out of you."

"And I would beat the crap out of him!"

Erza shook her head, "No you wouldn't."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. Because I wouldn't allow it." Erza replied, her voice wistful as she recalled many brawls in the guild started by the two rivals.

She couldn't help but smile to herself as she saw Gray's face pale, "Well… yeah. I try to repress those moments from my memory." Erza continued to quietly chuckle with Gray. But the Ice Make mage could see that it was forced.

"What's wrong Erza?" Gray asked, before giving her a wry grin, "Lord Stark change his mind."

"No he's not setting you free, unfortunately."

"Oh, I thought he wanted to chop my head off again for a second." He joked.

But Erza did not laugh with him. Her face hardened as she stared at Gray.

"Don't joke about that Gray." She hissed.

Gray's laughter died. He gulped, cleared his throat, then nodded, "Aye sir."

Erza sighed and closed her eyes, "Gray… a man from the Night's Watch will be arriving tomorrow evening." She saw Gray's jaw clench, "He's coming as their representative to greet the King. And when he leaves, you will be going with him."

Gray nodded. Was he happy about going to Wall? No, not at all. But it was much more preferable than the other option. He liked his head right where it was. So, after weeks of contemplating, fuming, and brooding, he finally accepted his fate. This would be temporary anyways, right? Erza would find everyone, she'd go to him at the Wall, and they would all get home.

"And…" Erza bowed her head, "And Jon may be going too."

Gray's eyes widened. Jon Snow was a name he had heard often when Erza came down to visit him. Erza said he was the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark. Raised with the family but not part of the family at the same time. And during their time in Winterfell, Erza had become good friends with him. She called him, "her best sparring partner". Many times, their conversations would go from reminiscing about Fiore and guild, to worrying about the others than landed in this world, and finally around to Jon Snow. And when Erza spoke about her training sessions with the Bastard of Winterfell, Gray could see her face light up. She would be like her old self again. The worry disappearing and excitement covering her face as she spoke in glowing terms about his progress as a swordsman.

But now, Erza's worry remained. Gray moved as close to the cell door as he could. The iron chains on his ankles clinking loudly as they scraped along the stone floor.

"Hey, Erza."

"What Gray?"

"Don't worry about him." Gray grinned and jabbed a thumb at his chest, "I got his back."

Erza snorted, "I think it'll be more likely that he'll have yours."

"Oh come on! Give me more credit than that. I'm not that bad with a sword."

Erza smirked, "He's better."

"He hasn't fought me yet."

"And I already know he's win."

Gray smirked, "Alright then. I propose a bet."

Erza frowned, "Gray what did I say about gambling."

"You had no problem with it at Akane resort!" Gray countered, "Besides, this is more of an incentive than a bet. You'll have to come find me and this Jon Snow in order to figure out if you won or not."

Erza glanced curiously at Gray, "Alright, what is it?"

Gray smiled, "When you find everyone else, and you come to Wall and grab me. I'll tell you who won."

Erza grinned, "I like that bet." The pair went quiet as the guard pounded on the dungeon door, telling Erza her time was up. Erza let out a long, heavy sigh before rising to her feet, "But I already know who will win." She started to walk towards the dungeon door.

"Sure you do." Gray replied as he slid back towards the most comfortable stone in his cell floor, "See you tomorrow Erza?"

Erza stopped and glanced back at Gray's cell, "I hope so." She whispered before knocking on the door. The guard opened the door. Erza stepped out, cast one last look back to Gray's cell before casting her eyes down to the floor.

The door closed.

….

The morning came sooner than she wanted. The pale sun of the North rose lazily in the clear sky. And Erza began her daily routine. Just because a King was arriving didn't mean she would interrupt her day. She arose early, with the sun. Stretched for several minutes in her room, before struggling to put her armor on. When that was finally done, she marched out to the yard to begin warming up. But to her surprise, she found she was not alone this early in the morning.

She didn't recognize him at first. His normally unruly black hair had been carefully cut and groomed, and his dark beard had been shaved clean. But Erza recognized those dark eyes. And when she saw Jon Snow standing in the yard, she couldn't help but laugh. Any anger from yesterday suddenly leaving her.

"You've got a baby face!" Erza roared, holding her belly as she laughed loudly.

"It's not that bad!" Jon cried, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

Another surprise came to Erza as a third voice pierced the cold air.

"He loves his hair more than he loves life itself." Robb Stark chuckled as he walked past Erza towards the rack of blunted training swords. He too had been groomed. His auburn hair trimmed and combed. His chin clean shaven. Only instead of being embarrassed about it, Robb flaunted it. He gave Erza a wide grin before grabbing a blade.

"C'mon Miss Scarlet. What say we thrash my brother for a little while before the King arrives?"

Erza chortled some more before waving a hand, "Not today. I don't think Lady Catelyn would be pleased if I left you black and blue in the yard when the King arrives." She smirked at Jon before nodding at Robb, "She wants the King to see his pretty face."

Jon snickered as Robb stared flabbergasted at her.

"Later then?" Robb finally asked, "I don't want to fall too far behind."

Erza nodded, "Yes, later. I'm just going to do a light workout then I need to go wake up Bran and Arya."

"And Sansa?" Jon reminded.

Erza scowled, "And her too." An evil grin crept across her face, "Perhaps a bucket of cold water would do for her?"

Jon laughed while Robb grimaced, "Hell hath no fury like Sansa when her hair gets wet. And that will be my warning to you on that plan." He nodded to both Jon and Erza, "I have a few things to tidy up with father and Jory. Then I will see you both when King Robert arrives."

"See you later, Robb." Erza replied.

Robb nodded stiffly. Clearly still unsure how to handle Erza's curiously relaxed speech patterns. As he left the yard, Erza turned back to Jon to see him self consciously rubbing his cheeks.

"It feels so cold." He cringed.

"It's because you don't have a fur coat on your face anymore." Erza teased and she dropped to the ground and started doing push ups.

"You don't have to point it out so loudly." Jon remarked before he followed Erza's lead.

Erza stopped on her third rep, "Won't Lady Catelyn-"

"Be upset if I got dirty before King Robert's arrival?" Jon finished for her. He shook his head, "She will just ignore my existence. And I prefer it that way, honestly."

He finished his push ups with Erza before both went over to the training swords, grabbed one, and began to mirror each other's movements. As Erza and Jon swung at air, Jon sighed.

"Erza, what happened yesterday-"

Erza frowned and stopped moving, "My opinion remains the same."

Jon nodded, "I figured." Erza moved again, thrusting her sword forward. Jon did the same, "I guess I'm just surprised you're not angry still."

Erza shrugged, "I was. But then… I don't know." She shook her head, "As much as I think it's a mistake. I can't live your life for you." She then spun and leveled her sword at Jon. The Bastard of Winterfell grinned and got into his stance across from her, "All I can do is prepare you for what you may face."

"Isn't that the Master at Arms job?"

Erza snorted, "Oh please. I dare Rodrik Cassel to beat me in a fight."

And their swords clashed once again.

 **And chapter! I was very tempted to go into the scene where King Robert arrives in Winterfell. But I'm going to save it for the next Erza chapter. That deserves it's own focus entirely. What with King Robert's massive personality and the events that take place in just that short scene. I'm so giddy to finally write Erza's interactions with the royal family (especially with Tyrion!). It's going to be fun! Anyways, let me know what you guys think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	23. Levy IV

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Levy

Levy shivered as a cold breeze swept through the lower deck of the Silence. What little remained of her orange dress she used to cover her frigid form. Her trembling hands pulled the strips of orange fabric tighter around her frail form. Each strip bit into red gashes on her back and shoulders. She hissed in pain as she felt one of them reopen. She could feel fresh blood ooze from the wound. But at this point, she no longer cared.

It had been over a month since Euron Greyjoy uncovered her lie. Over a month since he had taken her to the center of his ship and flogged her in front of the entire crew. Over a month of lying this cell, her body resting in an inch of salt water. Scraps for food, only a single skin of water every few days, and worst of all, barely any sleep. Every time she would begin to drift off, the man Euron set to guard the brig would pound on her bars, causing her to jump in fear. The only time she was actually allowed to nod off was when Euron Greyjoy allowed it. And those were rare occasions.

Every time she heard one of those iron bars ring, she thought he was coming for her again. Coming to take her back up to the deck in order to do god knows what to her. The bite of the cat o nine tails still stung all over her, made worse by lying down on the salt water soaked planks that formed the belly of the Silence.

Levy felt her eyelids begin to droop once again. No matter how hard she tried to keep them open, they would slowly fall down.

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

Her body hardly moved. The muscles growing tense for just a split second before succumbing to exhaustion and going slack. But her eyes shot open. She glanced over at the door to her cell and saw one of the mutes standing there, sword ready to clack against the bars again.

He seemed to notice her. Their eyes locked and the man gave Levy a stomach churning grin that revealed rotting teeth behind cracked lips. She tore her gaze away from the man. And he laughed at her. The sound like gurgling water going down a drain due to the loss of his tongue to Euron's rage. It rumbled in her ears, rang in her mind, incessantly. Never ending. Just like the misery.

She repressed a renewed hiss of pain as she felt the ship lurch violently. She felt her body slide along the chipped floors, reopening the gashes in her back and allowing more saltwater to flood over them. Weeks ago, she would've cried out in agony. But now, she barely had the energy to even acknowledge the pain's existence.

The ship lurched again. Then tossed, rolled, rose and fell. Though she felt lucidity escaping her, Levy recognized the feeling. A storm, and a violent one at that. The man guarding her cell appeared nervous now. His grimy hands petting the pommel of an old iron sword. Dark eyes flicking from the ceiling to Levy, then back to the ceiling.

Above them, the sound of boots scrambling along the deck could be heard. Cries from the men still capable of speech filled the silent air. And above them all, the voice of Euron Greyjoy howling as he reveled in the thrill of the storm.

Levy shrank from the sound. She tried to make herself smaller, to somehow hide from that hideous cry.

The ship rose high in the water. So much so that Levy felt herself slide down to the other side of her cell. Her guard struggled to keep his balance as the deck beneath him tilted more and more.

Then the Silence fell, diving down from her perch atop the waves. The mute guard scrambled to grab hold of one of the bars. Levy felt herself start to slide back to her spot.

A snap filled her ears. The sound of cords giving way near the back of the ship. Levy's weary eyes glanced over to see crates flying across the ship towards her cell. Before she could even react.. One hit her cell with a loud crash, splintering and spilling salted fish all over the deck. Another bounced away and slid towards the stairs that led to the ship's top deck.

The third missed her cell. Levy heard a muffled grunt. Then a body hit the floor with a dull thud. Levy froze and glanced over to see her guard on the floor, a small pool of blood forming beneath his head and a bloody crate next to him.

She held her breath and felt the ship lurch to the side. The man slid over to her cell and bumped into the bars with a loud clang. Levy's eyes widened. On his belt she saw a small bronze key.

Her body suddenly felt renewed. She could feel her muscles, sore and stiff, starting to move. She crawled over to the fallen man, a wrinkled, pale hand reaching out for the key.

She uttered a sharp cry as the ship soared once again. The man started to slide away. Levy used what little strength she had left to throw herself at him. She snaked her slim arm through the bars and snatched the key just as the mute's body slid by.

She could feel pain in her back. The gashes had opened once again. A thin crust of salt had formed around them, causing them to sting endlessly. But Levy didn't care about the sharp pain in her back, nor the aches in her muscles, or the pounding headache. She could only stare slack jawed at the key in her hands.

Her eyes looked over to the stairs. Water was leaking down from them, soaking the floor with the violent ocean spray. And no one was coming near it. Every hand was on deck. Every sailor, every pirate, focused solely on keeping the Silence afloat. Not a single one of them worried or looking for a slim, pale, blue haired girl escaping from her cell.

Levy gulped and forced herself to stand. Instantly she felt dizzy. Her head swam as the ship rocked. She reached out and grabbed hold of one the bars to her cell, using it to steady herself. A quick shake of her head and she felt the fog beginning to clear. With a trembling hand, she shoved the key into the lock and turned it. She heard a metallic clunk. And a wide smile crossed her lips.

She gently nudged the door open. Her bare feet shuffled across the deck. Her legs, shuddering with every step, carried her to the stairs, where she fell to her knees. Her lungs were burning. Her legs were screaming. Her feet felt like they were being pierced with a million needles. And her back- Levy squeezed her eyes shut and blocked out the pain. This was her only chance for escape. She knew it.

Levy crawled up one step at a time. The closer she got to the deck, the louder everything became. The sounds of massive waves crashing filled her ears. Cries of men struggling against the violent fury of nature echoed around her. And Euron's ecstatic howls interrupted it all before he paused and barked out more orders.

She finally reached the top. And the deck was pure chaos. The waves crashed one after another over the deck, sending massive rushes of water over the slippery wooden boards. Men cried, rushed, slipped and cursed as they struggled with the mast or with different ropes. Above her, in the black sky, she saw flashes of pale lightning before a deep rumble rolled overhead.

Adrenaline rushed through her as she hauled herself on deck just as another wave crashed over the Silence. Water slammed into her frail form. She slid across the deck and collided with the mast. A wave of pain shot from her back to the rest of her body. Flashes of that night when Euron tortured her hit her mind as she was pressed against that same pillar of wood by the waves. Primal fear filled her chest. All pain left her. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes searching for a lifeboat.

Then she smacked her head. This was a pirate ship!? Why would there be life boats!?

"And just where do you think you're going, Lady MacGarden!"

That voice made her freeze. Her spine crawled and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She slowly turned to see Euron calmly waltzing down from the helm of his ship. A manic grin plaster over his face. Arms outspread as if he was giving her a friendly greeting. He didn't pay any mind to the panic around him. His sole focus was on her. His smiling eye twinkling as his soggy boots stopped at her.

"Don't you like my company?" He asked with a mad grin.

Levy gulped and took a few steps back. She bumped into one of Euron's mute men. The man was about to turn around and utter what amounted to a curse when suddenly he felt a small fist hit him in the jaw. Levy was shocked at how hard she managed to hit the man. He crumpled immediately. Before he could slide away, Levy grabbed one of the knives he had on his belt and she turned it towards Euron.

More adrenaline pumped through her veins. Levy normally abhorred violence like this. She was a Fairy Tail wizard. Violence was only used when necessary. But right now, that was the furthest thought from her mind. She felt like a caged animal, cornered and desperate.

The Madman paused and smirked at her. "Oh now don't be like that." Euron said, "Violence is most unbecoming of a lady, don't you know?" He stalked towards her again, the ocean spray not deterring him in the slightest. She then saw him reach for his own blade, "But that doesn't mean I don't like it."

She barely dodged his swing. His sword bit into the mast. Levy blinked and looked up to see him struggling to free his sword. Without another thought, she rushed at him. Euron blinked in surprise before jerking away from his sword, but not before Levy's little knife slashed him along the ribs.

He hissed in pain as Levy scrambled back away from him. Then he glanced down at the bloody cut he now bore.

"Well now, I gave you some scars." He grinned, "Only fair you gave me at least one." He ran his hand over the blood, looked at it, then flicked it off of his hand, "Unfortunately for you, that's the only one you will ever give me."

Levy's mind raced. Several of the mute crewmen had finally noticed the commotion and were beginning to watch with interest as their captain played with his prey. She needed a way off of this ship. But there were no lifeboats. Not a single dinghy. Just her and the storm.

Her and the storm.

Levy looked back at Euron and she grinned.

"I'll give you another someday." She said, her voice a hoarse whisper drowned out by the roaring ocean and booming thunder.

Before Euron could reply, Levy sprinted towards the edge and jumped. The free fall lasted for only a few seconds. She could feel a surge of relief hit her as her feet left the Silence. Then she closed her eyes and hit the cold waves.

….

The Black Wind clipped through the waters like a knife through hot butter. Small waves formed in her wake. The morning sun had started to peek over the horizon, chasing away the previous day's storm and bringing with it the promise of another day.

Atop the deck of The Black Wind, hands holding her steady at the helm was a young woman. Her dark hair was pulled out of her wind chafed face. A sharp smile gracing her cracked lips as she saw the sun before her.

 _I may be a harsh bitch._ She thought with a wry grin, _But damn do I love seeing the sunrise like this._

She had worried last night's storm would continue. That it would pound her ship into oblivion. That last night would be the night that she would dine in the Drowned God's watery halls. If it had continued, she felt that the ocean would have certainly claimed her and her crew.

 _No._ She chased that thought away, her hand rubbed the wood of her ship, _She wouldn't do me wrong._

A pair of heavy boots clomped up behind her. She allowed her wide smile to stay in place for another second before that too was chased away.

"Captain." A gruff voice stated behind her.

"What Barrock?" She replied, just as gruf as the man behind her.

She need to turn to know who it was. Her first mate. The man she trusted with her pride and joy should she fall in battle. Barrock was a good sailor, and a hell of a warrior. Old by the standards of the Iron Islands. Too old to command respect as a reaving captain for very long. His thick beard spotted with patches of grey. Long, stringy, gray hair rested on his leathery square shoulders. Tanned dark due to years of walking the decks of a longship. Despite his age, he was still massive. Years of living aboard a ship, fighting with the tide and the wind shaped his body into a mass of muscle. But what made him recognizable to the Captain above all else was his gruff, even toned voice. It helped separate him from the wild, incoherent brutes that made up most of her crew. His voice carried a wisdom to it that many Reaving captains wished they could possess.

That wisdom helped make her, Yara Greyjoy, one of the best damn captains in the Iron Islands.

"Everything checks out so far." He reported to her, "Crows nest has nothing to report as of yet."

Yara frowned and looked back at her first mate, "Not a single merchant vessel?"

Barrock shook his head, "Scared off by the storm most likely."

Yara cursed, "It's been a three week voyage for us." She pursed her lips, "And we have nothing to show for it." She spun the wheel two notches left, keeping her bow pointed at the rising sun. "The further we go, the more distance we make with Pyke."

"The more restless the men become." Barrock finished for her, "Is that why you've turned us east? That may be good. Some of the boys are wondering why we sailed out this way instead of simply reaving the coastline."

Yara snorted, " _Everyone_ reaves the coasts. If ya keep plundering the same places you're going to run out eventually." She looked back out at the sea, "Besides, little voyages like this keep the men sharp."

Barrock rubbed his neck, "Been a bit longer than a little."

"So?" Yara replied.

She saw the man continue to give her an uncertain glare. She knew that look. It was the one he gave her when she was wrong. Yara felt pride swell up in her. Whenever that look was given to her, she wanted to shout in a rage. Declare to everyone, the Drowned God included, that she was the damn captain and she knew what she was doing. But she learned long ago the value of listening to her crew. Her first mate was the voice of her crew. He had their ear, and he delivered their thoughts to her. So, she bit her tongue.

"How long?" She finally asked.

"I'd go for another week at most before making the call to return to Pyke. Perhaps when we near the Iron Islands, we could turn course towards the coast and take a small village. It may not be much, but it'd be enough to keep the men satisfied."

Yara uttered a frustrated growl, "That fucking storm. Just yesterday we were on the tail of two merchant vessels and now-" She pounded her hand against the wheel, "Worthless."

"The ship or-"

"Absolutely not!" Yara cried, "My ship is perfect. It's just this trip. It's turned into a worthless journey."

Her first mate shrugged, "We all have one, from time to time."

"Hopefully this is the only time for a very long time." Yara muttered before sighing, "Go wake the men. It's time for the day to begin."

"Aye Captain."

Just before Barrock could make his way down to where the crew slept, the lookout uttered a startled cry.

"Captain!"

Yara whipped her gaze up to where the man perched above the mast.

"What do you see?" She asked. _Please be a ship. Please be a ship._

 __"Somebody floating in the water I think?" He replied. Then she saw his eyes bug out of his skull, "MAN OVERBOARD!"

Yara trailed his finger down to where he was pointing. Several dozen yards away, on The Black Wind's starboard side, a small body bobbed up and down in the gentle waves. Yara nodded to Barrock. The burly man took the wheel from her. Yara then bounded over to the starboard side.

There was someone overboard, at the complete mercy of waves. A small girl, floating lazily on her back. What appeared to be an orange dress torn and plastered against a thin body. Curious, light blue hair drifting lazily in the currents around her.

 _Blue hair?_ Yara thought, _Tyroshi perhaps?_ She then shook her head, _Far too light skinned._

The crew was finally starting to emerge on deck. Yara glanced back at the men, all of whom were cast curious glances at the girl in the waves. Yara pursed her lips then nodded.

"Barrock! Make sure someone has a rope for me!"

"Wait, Captain!"

Yara paid his cries no mind. She dove off the side of her ship, easily slipping into the water before bursting to the surface once again. Her arms and legs paddled powerfully towards the small girl. It only took a couple moments before she reached her. Once she got close, Yara grabbed one of the girl's arms and looped it around her own.

"Rope!" She called.

A small splash and she saw a long chord waiting for her. Yara grunted and paddled over to the rope. Once she had a firm grip she nodded over to her crew. Above the lapping of the water, she could hear her first mate barking out the cadence as her men pulled on the rope, reeling her and the girl back to the The Black Wind.

Both Yara and the girl collapsed hard on the deck when the men finally pulled them both aboard. Yara took a deep breath before bursting to her feet. She ran her gaze over her crew.

"You lot need some more rowing." She said, "Starting to think your muscles gone soft. Leave your captain at the mercy of the sea for so long."

She could see some of them shaking their heads. To the side, she could see Barrock chuckling quietly.

She shook her head before chuckling to herself, "Extra ration of pork for you lot tonight. But I better see some damn improvement."

"Aye captain!" The crew bellowed back, some with grins. Others just weary and ready to start the day.

Yara snapped her fingers at two young green boys. They were from Harlaw? Maybe Orkmont? She couldn't quite remember. The pair never spoke up unless they were spoken too. A good trait to have for a green boys with no family name. Better to know your place a rise quietly in the ranks than to make enemies in the Iron Fleet by having a loud mouth.

"You two, take her to my quarters. Clean her up and make sure she is fed and given water."

"A-aye captain." One stammered, but neither moved.

Yara raised her eyebrow, "Well. You just gonna stand there staring at me like I'm the first naked woman you've ever seen or are you going to do your damn job?"

"Aye captain! Sorry captain!" Both cried before quickly grabbing the girl and carrying her towards Yara's quarters.

Barrock quietly drew up beside Yara, "That was risky captain."

Yara glanced at her first mate, "I like taking risks."

"The men will not-"

"The men will understand." She replied curtly as she marched up towards the helm, ready to take command of her ship once again, "Once they get it through their heads what I'm trying to do."

"And that would be?"

"You think little girls just randomly pop up in the ocean?" Yara asked.

Barrock jerked his head back in surprise before pursing his lips, "Hadn't thought of that."

Yara nodded, "She had to have come from somewhere. Perhaps there is a wreck nearby. Wood floats after all. Perhaps we may get lucky. That or the storm tossed her overboard from a ship she was on."

"A ship we can plunder."

Yara grinned mischievously, "You're starting to clear the cobwebs from that old brain of yours?"

"This old brain has helped you earn more riches than you could've on your own." He grunted.

"Ha!" Yara laughed haughtily, "We may never know for certain on that one." She took a deep breath, "When she wakes make sure I know. I want to be the first to speak with her."

"Aye captain." Barrock replied.

"And get the men started on the deck. I want that salt from last night scrubbed off before midday."

"Aye captain."

 **And chapter! So Levy has escaped from Euron Greyjoy. And now she is in the hands of another Greyjoy. How will this one go I wonder? It seems fate wants her on the Iron Islands. Also, Yara's first mate is a character I kinda just made up. None of her crew is ever really given a name in the show and I figured it'd give her a bit more personality if she was shown interacting with her men. So there's the reasoning behind that. Anyways, I've got a fun story planned for Levy! I can't wait to write it! Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	24. Natsu IV

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Natsu

The night was still. Quiet. A warm breeze came into the room through the veiled balcony. The curtains drifted lazily, barely brushing the floor. Meanwhile, the silence of the night was only broken by the crackling of several fires within the palace of Illyrio Mopatis echoing through Natsu's ears. One of which he was staring at. It was a simple torch. Red and orange flames danced in front of his dark eyes. They mesmerized him as he perched on a chair in Dany's room.

Natsu blinked. He had totally forgot he was in Dany's room. He broke his gaze from the torch and frowned.

 _Why am I here again?_ He wondered to himself.

Before he could recall the reason he heard footsteps hurrying towards Dany's doorway. Natsu thought nothing of it. His attention was back to the delicious looking flames burning on a wooden stick. His favorite meal. Fire on a stick. It had certainly been a while since he had a proper meal like this. He licked his lips and opened his mouth, ready to devour the flickering fire.

The doors to Dany's room burst open with a loud crash. Natsu jumped in his seat, startled. His jaw quickly snapped shut, causing his sharp canines to dig into his tongue. He uttered a loud cry of pain, which in turn caused Daenerys to shriek as she marched in. That only caused Natsu to yell louder before he let his wounded tongue hang out of his mouth.

"What are you doing in here!?" Dany shouted.

"I bith my thongue!" Natsu cried as he rubbed it with his hand.

"You came in here because you bit your tongue?"

Natsu stopped his panicking and gave Daenerys a puzzled stare, "Why would I do that?"

"I-what-but-" Dany sighed and buried her eyes into one of her hands, "I can't do this right now."

Natsu was about to reply, but then he saw Dany move swiftly over to her bed. She let out a long, heavy breath before falling into the mattresses warm embrace. She didn't even bother with the expensive dress she had on. Wrinkled silk did not matter to her. There was far too much on her mind right now. Natsu could see small tears staining her cheeks as she shifted onto her side and began to curl into a tight ball in the center of the massive bed.

"H-hey?" Natsu inched his way over to the edge of her bed, "Are you ok?"

Dany lifted her head. Natsu could now see that her eyes were raw and red. She had been crying for longer than the few minutes she had been in her room. He could see watery trails running down her pale cheeks that ended at her chin. Her lips was quivering and her chest was shuddering as she bit back loud sobs.

"I'm scared." She admitted.

Natsu tilted his head to the side, "This has something to do with that Cal guy doesn't it?"

Somehow, his comment managed to make Dany utter a small laugh. She choked for a moment then nodded, "It is Khal, Natsu. Not Cal."

Natsu eyes widened, "Really? Hm… that explains a lot then. All those weird mute guards gave me the strangest looks whenever I asked about Khal."

Another strangled laugh came from Dany's lungs, "Khal is just a title Natsu. His real name is Drogo."

"Then why would he call himself Khal?"

Dany sniffled and propped herself onto her elbows, "I think it is the Dothraki way of saying he is a King."

Natsu's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "He's a king?"

Dany nodded.

"Whoa!" Natsu exclaimed, "He's a King and an awesome warrior!" He suddenly pounded a fist into his open hand, causing Dany to jump, "I definitely gotta fight him now."

Dany stared incredulously at Natsu. Any sobs ceased and she could only somehow attempt to comprehend what the pink haired boy had just said.

"Fight him?"

"Hm, yeah." Natsu frowned, "What? Do you think that's weird?"

"Well, yes," Dany replied, "My brother has told me that Khal Drogo has never been defeated in battle. It is why his braid is so long. When a Dothraki warrior is defeated in battle, he cuts his braid to show his shame. And apparently, Khal Drogo has never cut his braid. How could you hope to beat him?"

Natsu grinned, "With my fire of course!"

Dany sighed. Of course. His fire. Natsu and his magic. A magic she had yet to witness. If she was honest with herself, she would admit that she did not believe Natsu. He claimed to be able to wield fire like a dragon. That he was trained by a dragon. Raised by a dragon even. But such a thing was not possible. Dragons died out decades ago. And they were beasts. Dangerous animals that only her family and others of Valyrian lineage had been able to tame. How could one raise a boy like Natsu? It was simply impossible.

Nevertheless, she indulged his fantasies. Mostly because he just seemed so… innocent. And she liked that about him. Enjoyed it even. It was a welcome reprieve from the paranoia of her brother and the constant fawning of Pentos's nobles. That innocence allowed Dany to just be herself. Free of any judgement. She felt like Natsu was the kind of person who didn't care about manners or traditions (as was evidenced by how much he ate at the feast earlier in the week). So he probably didn't care if she didn't act like a proper Targaryen lady. She wanted to preserve that innocence. If for nothing else, than to help her cope with what was to come.

She sat up and drew her knees towards her chest. Her violet eyes glanced up at Natsu.

"You still scared?" He asked. His simple speech making her feel comfortable despite the stress she was feeling.

Dany nodded, "I'm um… I am supposed to marry Khal Drogo." She wiped her nose, not caring about her own high born manners. She just wanted to clean her face up a little bit, "And… and I really don't want to."

Natsu arched an eyebrow. He was clearly confused. Dany shook her head. There was that naive innocence again. He didn't understand, did he?

She blinked in surprise as he flopped down on the bed beside her. He stretched his arms high over his head before placing his hands under his head.

"Why?" He asked.

It was such a simple question that it caught Dany completely off guard.

"Um…" Dany took a deep breath, "I am… I am actually not entirely sure myself."

"Has he tried to hurt you?"

"No!" Dany replied quickly, "I just… I barely know Khal Drogo. And yet, I am supposed to marry him just so my brother can have his army!" Dany hadn't realized she started yelling. But when she did, she didn't care. Let the world hear. Let her brother hear. She needed to just scream. "This is not what I want!" She finally bellowed.

Natsu was quiet beside her. He simply hummed to himself. She saw him start to rub his chin, as if he was deep in thought.

"So what do _you_ want?" He asked.

And once again, Dany was caught off guard by how simple the question was.

"It- it isn't that simple Natsu." Dany admitted, her voice much softer now.

"How so?" Natsu asked as he rolled onto his side to face her.

"Well…" Dany drew a breath, "It is a long story."

Natsu gave her toothy grin, "I ain't going anywhere."

Dany felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards, "Are you sure. It is quite the story. A long history of the seven-"

"History?" Natsu frowned, "I don't like history. It's boring. Erza tried to teach it to me once." He shuddered, "That was terrifying." He then grinned at her again. That same child like innocence shining through, "Can you give me the short version."

Dany chuckled, "Sure." She nodded, "Well… where to begin." She pursed her lips, "I suppose we should start with my family." She turned to face Natsu, "You see, my family were Kings and Queens of Seven Kingdoms across the Narrow Sea."

"Westeros?" Natsu asked.

"Yes. Westeros." Dany blinked, "How do you-"

"Contrary to what some believe, namely an annoying Ice Princess, I _CAN_ read a map." He declared emphatically. He then nodded to Dany, "Continue."

"Oh, well. My father, years ago, was King of the Seven Kingdoms. And one day, a man named Robert Baratheon, the Usurper, started a rebellion against him." Natsu watched as Dany's face fell, "He won the war. My father was killed by one of his own guards. My mother was forced to flea to Dragonstone with Viserys and those that remained loyal. The city of my ancestors was sacked by the Lions of House Lannister. My eldest brother was killed by the Usurper himself." Natsu's face darkened as she spoke, "His children were killed when they were just babes by the Lannisters. And my mother died giving birth to me afterwards." Dany gulped, "Ever since then, me and Viserys have been on the run. Hiding here in Essos. Making deals and gaining followers so that one day, we-" She bit her lip, "He may march upon the Usurper and his followers, reclaim my father's throne, and take the Targaryen's revenge for their betrayal." She took a long breath, "Khal Drogo has the largest Khalasar in the entire Dothraki sea. It said one Dothraki Screamer can fight against ten normal men and win. With an army like that, Viserys can invade the Seven Kingdoms and reclaim the Iron Throne from the Usurper." She gulped, "That is why I am marrying Khal Drogo. That… is why it is not so simple."

Dany fell silent when she saw the look on Natsu's face. He looked both horrified and angry. The childlike innocence gone and replaced with what appeared to be righteous anger.

"The Usurper sounds like a monster." He muttered.

Dany nodded, "That is what Viserys says. My brother is determined to show him the meaning of our House's words."

Natsu looked at Dany puzzled.

"Fire and Blood." Dany continued, "The words of House Targaryen."

Natsu scowled, "It sounds like a whole lot of unnecessary killing to me."

"Yes, the Usurper did kill too many."

"I don't mean just him." Natsu replied, causing Dany to give him a puzzled look.

"You think my family is in the wrong as well?"

Natsu nodded, "Anyone who kills is wrong. No matter the reason." He sighed, "Gramps always told me this," He cleared his throat and suddenly he attempted to make himself sound like an elderly man, "Now listen here brat! Today's enemies can become tomorrow's friends. All life is sacred. You are not the one who gets to decide when life is given and when it is taken. Leave that to others. You just live to be a better man than your enemies. And learn to make friends with those who would wish you harm. You'll be happier for it."

Dany stared wide eyed at Natsu. The pink haired boy then snorted.

"You know. I used to think he was kinda full of it on that one. How can an enemy become a friend? But then…" Dany watched as Natsu seemingly disappeared. His eyes were focused on something else. A place far away from where he was now. Looking at people that were nowhere to be found in Pentos. He shrugged after a moment, "I guess he proved me wrong in the end."

Dany furrowed her brow. She was no longer sad, or angry. That had passed. Now, she was curious. Here was this pink haired boy. A peculiar, erratic, innocent, and occasionally childish, pink haired boy; talking with her about her feelings. About her future marriage to Khal Drogo. About her feelings regarding the Usurper, her brother, the world. And she knew nothing about him. She could feel her curiosity building as the mystery grew for her.

"Natsu?"

"Yeah?"

"What was your dragon father like?" She asked.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Dany shrugged, "My family used to have dragons. But they died out before I was born. I've never seen one. And my brother tends to… exaggerate his descriptions of them. I figured you will tell me the truth."

"Oh!" Natsu remarked, "Well, my Dad was a fire dragon. And his name was Igneel."

"Igneel?"

"Yup," Natsu nodded, "Was he my actual dad, dad?" Natsu tilted his head to the side, "It's be weird if he was. But I don't think so." Dany held back a small laugh, "I got lost one day. Don't know how. And he found me. That's how I met him." His mouth widened into a toothy grin. The biggest one Dany had ever seen, "He was always so kind to me. He taught me everything I know about fishing, and hunting. He taught me how to read...er… well sorta read. Erza finished those lessons up for him. He taught me about people. And most important of all, he taught me how to be a Fire Dragon Slayer."

Dany nodded to herself, "A Fire Dragon Slayer?"

"Yup." Natsu nodded.

Dany bit her lip, "So Natsu… can you… show me your magic then?"

Natsu furrowed his brow, "It's still acting funny." he muttered before jumping off of Dany's bed and swinging his arms in circles for a couple moments. He then cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, "But I can give it a shot."

He stood there for several minutes, staring at his clenched right fist. Dany saw sweat beginning to form on his brow. She could hear his teeth creaking as he clenched his jaw tight. His eyes screwed closed and his breathing started to grow shallow. For a moment, Dany swore she saw a small amount of steam coming from Natsu's fist. But then he let out a long gasp. He slumped forward, nearly falling hard to the floor before catching himself and falling back onto the bed beside Dany.

"Dammit." He quietly mumbled.

Dany closed her eyes. Perhaps he was lying. Maybe he didn't have fire magic after all. She didn't really see steam. It was just a trick of the light. Or she was just weary. It was very late after all. And tomorrow was an important day for her and her brother. A day she dreaded yet needed to face. For her family's sake. Nevertheless, the sheer disappointment she saw on Natsu's face made her feel sorry for him. He genuinely believed he could wield fire. And now, to find that he was unable to do so, was crushing him. Dany placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"It will be ok Natsu."

Natsu narrowed his eyes, "No. It's not ok." He grumbled before rubbing his chin. His dark eyes darted over to the torch he was staring at before Dany came in, "Wait a moment!" He exclaimed.

He jumped back to his feet, scrambled over to the torch, and plucked it from it's sconce. Natsu stared hard at the flames then looked over at Dany.

"I know how I'm gonna get my magic back!" He declared.

Dany suddenly felt concern fill her. He was holding that torch dangerously close to his face. Before she could say anything. Natsu opened his mouth and shoved the flame down his throat.

"NATSU!" Dany screamed.

She rushed towards him. With all her strength she grabbed the torch in his hands and ripped it free from his mouth. The flame was extinguished. But Dany hardly noticed. She tossed the wooden stick away and grabbed Natsu hard by the scaly scarf around his neck.

"Are you alright Natsu!?" She cried, watching his face contort and his eyes squeeze shut.

Then he swallowed. And a small stream of smoke came from his lips.

"Bleh!" Natsu exclaimed as he began to scratch his tongue, "You guys seriously use flames like that! That was so gross!"

Dany could only look at the boy with a mixture of complete shock, awe, and utter disbelief.

"Y-you ate that fire?"

Natsu looked at Dany, "Well yeah, that's how Fire Dragon Slayers power up. But we can't eat our own flames. Nope, that doesn't go well. I've tried." He rubbed his stomach, clearly recalling a bad memory, "It didn't end well."

"You. Ate. Fire." Dany reiterated, struggling to comprehend that Natsu stuck a torch down his throat and seemed completely fine. Not a single burn was on him. There weren't even ashes on his lips. It seemed entirely impossible for this to be happening?

 _Maybe this is dream of some sort?_ Dany thought.

"I just said that." Natsu replied.

"I-I know that!" Dany cried, "I just," She turned away and rubbed her forehead, "By the seven what is going on anymore?"

The smell of smoke filled Dany's nose. Then she heard an excited gasp come from Natsu.

"Dany look!"

Daenerys turned. Her eyes widened. There, in both of Natsu's fists, were flames. Bright orange flames that flickered like torches. They danced in the warm night air. Heating the space around Natsu. The brighter they got, the wider his grin became. And the more Dany stared at him in wonder.

"You were telling the truth." She breathed.

Natsu didn't seem to notice. He simply let out a triumphant roar. Then the flames suddenly extinguished. Natsu blinked, his eyelids fell and he slumped to the floor. Dany rushed over to his side as soon as he hit the ground.

"Natsu?" She shook him. Worry filled her. Did the fire kill him in the end? Was it too good to be true after all?

He stirred for a moment, his dark irises looking at her through half lidded eyes.

"Guess it didn't work after all." He grumbled.

Dany just smiled and shook her head, "It did." She started to laugh, "It did Natsu. Maybe you just need a little more fire to eat."

"You got some more?" Natsu mumbled with a smirk.

"Plenty. Especially tomorrow. I'm sure…" She hesitated, suddenly reminded of what was happening tomorrow. The blissful magic that had distracted her had now come to an end, and reality hit her once again, "I'm sure Khal Drogo will have a blazing bonfire at the wedding ceremony." She finished, her smile racing away from her lips.

"Oh… that's good." Natsu replied before yawning, "I'm tired."

"Well… you can't sleep here."

"Why?"

"Well…" Dany stopped herself, "You never answered my first question."

"What was that?"

"Why are you in my room?"

Natsu smiled as his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. Before he started snoring, Dany heard him mutter,

"It's cozy in here."

 **And chapter! It's about damn time I got back to Natsu and Dany! I think their story needed a chapter like this. One where there is not necessarily a big plot or major event. Just Natsu and Dany talking. Being relaxed in a way. It's a way to develop their relationship I suppose. Anyways, we have Dany about to get married… and King Robert is arriving in Winterfell… here we go folks. Let me know what you guys think of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	25. Erza VIII

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

Erza stomped along the mud and cobblestone streets of the village outside the castle. Her brown eyes roved the little corners next to small stone huts, hovels, and shops. Most of the small folk were fretting about. Beating rugs with brooms, scrubbing their doors, a few bold merchantmen were still attempting to sell their goods to the masses. But no one paid them no mind, certainly not Erza. There was a much more important event occuring.

King Robert was arriving.

The Stark household had initially assembled in the castle yard. Everyone wore their finest clothes. Bran, Robb, and Jon wore their best outfits, complete with new fur cloaks over their shoulders. Rickon stood beside his mother, wearing a fancy new doublet. Sansa stood regally beside her brother Robb, chin held high, posture perfect. A dainty little smile on her face. And the Lord and Lady of the house stood between them all, both nervous and dour as normal. There was one missing person however. And that was who Erza was searching for.

Little Arya Stark. The troublemaker of the house.

 _That little girl._ Erza thought to herself as she brushed passed several carts and turned a corner, _Always finding mischief. Always making my job more difficult._ A small smirk crossed her face, _She reminds me of a few people._

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a small form wearing an iron helmet rush towards one of the wagons. The little person shoved her way through a growing crowd on the main street, jumped up onto the wagon and peered into the distance. Then Erza heard it. The sound of horns. She turned to see, up on one of the hills outside of the city, a banner. A crowned stag on a yellow field.

 _Dammit Arya Stark._ Erza furrowed her brow and looked back at the helmeted figure, who was now doing their best to scrambled down from the wagon and make their way towards the castle. Erza peered closer and saw that the cloak around this little person's shoulders was far to rich for the smallfolk.

She smacked herself on the forehead.

"How did I miss that?" She grumbled before charging after Arya Stark.

She quickly caught up to the youngest daughter of Lord and Lady Stark. And when she did she twirled the girl around, causing Arya to let out a surprised yelp.

"Found you." Erza said firmly, but at the same time she couldn't help but suppress a grin.

Arya was beaming, "I knew you would."

"You picked a bad time to do this, you know." Erza scolded half heartedly. She gripped Arya's shoulder and guided her back towards her family in the castle yard.

"But you still found me in time. So it wasn't a bad time."

"Barely." Erza whispered back as she placed Arya beside Sansa.

She heard the two girls begin to bicker as she stepped away. A sharp glance from both Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn silenced them both. Meanwhile, Erza went to stand several rows back, where a friend of hers also stood.

"Good timing."

Erza rolled her eyes, "Arya said the same thing."

Jon smirked, "Great minds think alike."

"More like reckless minds." Erza replied.

To her right, she saw Theon Greyjoy arch an eyebrow as he glanced at the pair. Erza gave him a hard stare and the ward of Eddard Stark looked away.

"He's spineless." Jon muttered.

"How do you know that? Maybe I just intimidate him." Erza remarked.

"You don't intimidate me."

"Well you've actually gotten to know me." Erza replied, "He's just always… staring."

Jon pursed his lips and bobbed his head. He then rubbed his cheeks.

"Stop that." Erza shoved his hand away from his face, "You look fine."

"I feel naked."

"Don't make a scene of it then." Erza hissed back.

"I'm trying not to."

Lord Stark glanced back at them. A look that ordered both to be quiet. Both fell silent.

"Your fault." Erza teased once Eddard Stark turned away.

Before Jon could reply, another trumpet blasted. A wave of horses began to stream into the yard. At the head was an older man wearing golden armor and a white cloak. His face filled with lines but his eyes hard and focused. Behind him trotted several guards in red armor, two of them clutching the Lion of House Lannister in their hands. Beside them was the man who carried the standard of House Baratheon. Then came a teenage boy with golden hair riding beside a knight in black armor and a helmet in the shape of a snarling hound.

"The crown prince." Erza heard Sansa gasp.

Erza just rolled her eyes. She did catch herself staring at the knight in the hound helmet though. He seemed to notice her. The helm slightly swiveled to stare at her before the knight returned to riding beside the prince.

Next came a massive wheelhouse, easily as big as one of the rooms in Winterfell. The massive gilded contraption rumbled through the stone and muck before coming to a stop just inside of Winterfell's gates. Then came three others. Two were knights with white cloaks once again. The third, in between the two knights, was a rather fat man with a thick, scraggly black beard and long oily hair. Despite his portly appearance, he rode his horse well. Head held high, a sense of command flowing from him.

"Is that him?" Erza asked Jon.

Jon nodded, "I think so."

The two knights stopped and the King continued forward another few paces. When he stopped, a young squire rushed over with a wooden step stool to help the King down from his horse. The King let out a sigh when he touched the ground before turning his gaze to Lord Stark and marching towards him.

Erza and Jon held their breath. The King did not appear friendly. His dark eyes were narrowed at Eddard Stark, completely focused and unwavering. When he approached the Lord of Winterfell, Lord Stark and everyone else knelt before the King. Erza hesitated then followed suit. She then glanced up at the man.

He was even heavier set that she initially thought. His gut extended well past what was considered healthy. The beard was no doubt grown to hide a double chin. Erza could feel a small frown forming. This man looked nothing like a king. And certainly not anything like how Lord Stark had described him.

Lord Stark rose to his feet suddenly. And everyone else rose as well.

The yard was completely quiet. No one said a word. No one dared to make a sound. The King looked Lord Stark up and down.

"You've got fat." He said.

Erza felt her jaw drop.

Lord Stark said nothing. Instead he just stared back at King Robert. Then the two men broke into loud laughter before finally embracing.

"Nine years Ned!" King Robert said joyfully, "Nine bloody years! What the hell of you been doing up here?"

"Running the North for you." Ned replied with a wide grin. The widest smile Erza had ever seen on the man's face.

Erza glanced over at the Wheelhouse to see the doors opening. Three passengers cautiously stepped out. One a young boy with golden hair. Another one of the King's sons no doubt. The next was a young girl, her hair the same golden tint as the little boy's. The King's Daughter. And lastly came a stunning woman with bright golden hair and vibrant green eyes. She gracefully exited the wheelhouse and approached the Starks just as King Robert was getting himself acquainted with the rest of the family.

After ruffling the hair on little Rickon's head, King Robert moved over to Robb and gave him a firm handshake.

"Aren't you a pretty one." He said to Sansa, who smiled dutifully and curtsied for the King.

"And you. Who are you?" He asked when he stopped in front of Arya.

"I'm Arya!" The little girl said definitely, causing both Jon and Erza to smile and shake their heads.

"Arya huh." The King nodded then finally reached Bran, "Show me your muscles boy." Bran flexed his arm and the King laughed, "Yes, you will be fighter."

Erza looked back to see Ned bowing to the Queen. Then she felt Jon nudge her in the ribs.

"See that knight with the white cloak and gold hair?"

Erza glanced back at the wheelhouse.

"Aye."

"That's Ser Jaime Lannister." Erza could feel her jaw clench as Jon pointed him out.

"The Kingslayer." She whispered, recalling her studies on the recent history of the Seven Kingdoms. More specifically, the Sacking of King's Landing during Robert's rebellion against the Mad King.

"Aye." Jon whispered back, "And the Queen's twin brother."

Erza nodded then tilted her head, "Question. I thought the queen had two brothers?"

"She does." Jon replied.

"So where is the second one?"

Jon shrugged. Then King Robert's booming voice rang out again.

"Ned, take me to your crypts." He commanded, "I want to pay my respects."

"We have been traveling for over a month, your grace." The Queen argued back before Lord Stark could reply, "Can we rest first?"

"Ned." Robert nodded and marched in the direction of the Stark's family crypts, with the Lord of Winterfell in tow. A flicker of irritation crossed the Queen's face before she let out a long breath and turned to whisper to her brother.

"Where's the Imp?" Arya asked Sansa.

"Would you shut up." Sansa snapped back.

"Sansa. Arya." Erza warned. Both girls closed their mouths.

"Why don't you children go find something to do." Lady Catelyn suggested, "Do not run off and do not get dirty. We are feasting tonight."

"Yes momma." Bran said quickly before rushing off with his Direwolf behind him.

"Yes mother." Arya grinned before donning her helmet once again and charging into the crowd. Her little form disappearing from view.

Sansa simply nodded and went to find Septa Mordane. All the while, the girl stole some glances back at Prince Joffrey and his black armored knight.

Lady Catelyn turned to Jon and Erza. Her jaw stiffened as she looked at Jon, then she visibly relaxed when her gaze fell on Erza.

"I can have the servants watch after the children for today. Why don't you rest and freshen up for the feast tonight."

Erza bowed, "Thank you, my lady." She replied with practiced ease.

With the King disappearing with Lord Stark into the crypts, and the Stark family leaving to go about their day, the rest of the crowd dispersed, leaving Jon and Erza alone in the yard. The Royal family had already marched indoors, their servants following behind with their belongings.

The red haired knight turned to Jon.

"The Stark's have a crypt?"

Jon looked at her surprised, "You didn't know?"

Erza shook her head, "I figured your family had some sort of graveyard. I didn't think they'd have a crypt."

The pair began to walk towards the castle doors. Both were ready to go indoors for the day.

"It's not a place we like to talk about." Jon replied, "What with its association with death and all."

"That makes sense I suppose." Erza glanced at Jon as he pushed the door open for her, "Maybe you can show me them sometime?"

Jon arched an eyebrow, "Interested in Stark's are we?"

She punched him hard in the shoulder, causing Jon to wince. Erza then smiled and strode into the castle. Her destination was Maester Luwin's tower. Even though the castle now held royal visitors, her search must continue. Erza waved to Jon and disappeared up the stairs.

 _Maybe today there'll be some news._

….

Erza balled her fists up. Frustration bubbled up in her as she marched into her room. She used her foot to shut the door.

"Nothing." She growled before shaking her head, "Again."

She flopped onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Worry weighed heavily on her shoulders. It had been months now. Months! And there had been no word about anyone from her guild. No sightings of a man breathing fire or a woman summoning spirits. No reports of a white haired maiden turning into a monster or a drunken woman blasting people with a deck of cards. Not even a letter telling of two girls with strange blue hair roaming the countryside. Just eerie silence. She had spent all day in the Maester's tower. Hoping beyond hope that maybe one Raven would bring a clue when it landed in Luwin's hands. But nothing came. Just the normal news from the North, which the Maester read then filed away for tomorrow. After all, Lord and Lady Stark had no time for such things. The King and Queen were here, and a feast needed to be held.

Erza huffed and closed her eyes. A stomach churning thought had started to dance through her mind as of late. And with every passing day, the possibility of it being true grew for her.

What if she and Gray were the only ones in this world? What if the others were just… gone? Or still in Fiore searching for them? Or in a completely different world from this one? What if… what if.

Erza grabbed her pillow, pulled it over her face, and screamed. All of the frustration and worry boiling over all at once. She was so focused on her yelling that she didn't even notice her door open.

"Is this a bad time?" The dainty voice of Sansa Stark asked.

Erza chucked the pillow across the room, accidentally knocking an unlit candle over. She then crossed her legs and gave Sansa a strained smile.

"Not at all." She said through clenched teeth.

The Stark girl rolled her eyes, "I'm not stupid."

Erza folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at the girl. Why was she here? She never came to visit her. Not like Arya at least. The littlest daughter always wanted to be around Erza. But Sansa always wanted to stay as far away from Erza as humanly possible. So why was she now in her room?

"What do you want?" Erza asked.

Sansa seemed surprised by the blunt question, "Um… my mother told me to come here."

"To?"

"To tell you that… um… that you probably shouldn't wear your armor to the feast."

Erza blinked, "Eh?"

"What?" Sansa replied, puzzled.

Erza shook her head, "Sorry, I'm just-" She picked her ear, "I don't think I heard you right."

"Oh… well, my mother told me to tell you that you probably shouldn't wear your armor to the feast tonight." Sansa repeated. Her voice clearly bored.

Erza felt her jaw tighten, "My job is to protect you and your siblings. How can I do that without my armor?"

Sansa shrugged, "I don't know. All I know is that is what my mother wants. And my father wants you at the feast. Obviously to keep and eye on me and my siblings, though I still don't know why he wants that. So you can't not show up. And you cannot wear your armor. It is that simple."

Erza narrowed her eyes at Sansa. The girl was enjoying this. She could tell. Erza always wore her armor. Everyone in the castle knew that. The only time she was out of her armor was to bathe, to clean it, or to sleep. And no one ever caught a glimpse of her bathing or sleeping. And only Jon had ever seen her take her armor off to clean it. Sansa had correctly assumed that Erza was very attached to her armor. Perhaps too attached. No wonder she called Erza the She-man.

"You think I can't be girly." Erza surmised.

Sansa blinked in surprise, "N-no I just-"

"Oh yes. That is exactly what you're thinking." Erza nodded then shook her head, "Alright, fine. I'll wear something else tonight." She rose and walked over to her wardrobe. But inside was nothing but some small clothes, a spare white blouse and blue skirt, and a pair of swords. Erza grabbed the white blouse and blue skirt.

"No." Sansa suddenly scolded. She marched up to Erza, tore the blouse and skirt from her hands, and placed them back in the wardrobe.

"What?" Erza asked, "I said I'd wear something else."

"You can't wear that!" Sansa exclaimed, "Do you want to look like a whore?"

"What did you just call me?" Erza growled.

Sansa ignored Erza's fury, "Wait here." She rushed out of the room.

Several minutes passed. All the while Erza fumed.

 _Oh when she gets back in here. She will get a nice dose of reality!_ Erza scrunched her face, _Calling me such a horrid thing. Wait till she gets a fist in the face!_

Sansa strode back into the room. And behind her were three servants carrying a tub filled with steaming water. Erza forgot all about getting vengeance on Sansa Stark.

"What?" Sansa asked, "I don't like you still. But I'm not going to let you look ridiculous with Prince Joffrey here." Sansa brushed some hair from her face, "It would make me look bad as well, since you are supposed to be my protector."

Erza snorted in reply.

"Now come on, She-man." Erza glanced furiously as Sansa called her that. The servants set the tub down, "Into the tub."

Erza scowled then sighed. She quickly stripped and sank into the steaming water. As soon as she settled into the tub, two of the servants began to scrub her down. Meanwhile, Sansa ordered the other to fetch several dresses from her room.

Erza didn't mind being pampered like this. It was a nice change. Winterfell was so medieval compared to Fiore. Baths were not a daily thing for those who weren't of noble blood. So when she was able to take one, Erza enjoyed it immensely. Although she had never had someone else take care of her like this. A wary eye glanced over to Sansa as the girl glanced at a blue dress looked over at Erza, frowned, then tossed the dress to the side.

"So you are doing this just so you can look good for Prince Joffrey?" Erza asked.

Sansa nodded, "He is the prince. Noble and handsome. And I am the daughter of his father's best friend." Sansa held up a green gown and looked over at Erza. She scowled and tossed that gown away as well, "I am sure you can connect the dots."

Erza jerked up in surprise, "Wait!? You mean-"

Sansa nodded then held up a red gown with white trim. She glanced at Erza and this time smiled, "This one will work."

"You're just gonna marry someone you've never even met?" Erza said stunned.

Sansa gave her a puzzled look, "Of course. He's the crown prince. Destined to be a great king. And I am the daughter of a lord of a great house. It is my duty to marry a great lord and bear him sons."

Erza's jaw fell open.

"Why does that seem so foreign, She-man?"

Erza snarled and jumped to her feet, startling the servants around her. She stood in front of Sansa, not even bothering to cover herself.

"Do I look like a She-man to you?"

Sansa paled a little bit, "N-no." Sansa then gulped, "Get her dried off." She ordered the servants, "Then help her with this dress." She held the red dress up in front of Erza, "It matches her hair."

Erza shooed away the servants as Sansa took a seat on her bed.

"I can do it myself." Erza grumbled as she took the dress and held it up, "Huh…" She remarked, "Not bad."

"How could _you_ know?" Sansa replied.

"I've owned my fair share of dresses."

Sansa looked at her with disdain, "It is a gown, Miss Scarlet."

"Gown, dress. Same piece of clothing, but meant for a different event." Erza replied as she finished drying herself off before casually slipping into the red and white gown. Just before she finished lacing it together, she went over to her wardrobe, grabbed a dagger, and slid it beneath the laces along her back. The pommel resting easily atop her collar.

"What are you doing!?" Sansa exclaimed.

"What? My job is to protect you and your siblings. Do you seriously think I'm going to go anywhere without a weapon? Besides it blends in enough."

"You don't need a weapon. We are completely safe." Sansa argued back.

Erza shrugged, "Lord Stark begs to differ."

Sansa furrowed her brow, "You think the Lannisters are dangerous?"

Erza was silent for a moment as she smoothed out some faint wrinkles, "They have that type of track record." Erza then began to fiddle with her hair, trying to figure out if she should leave it down, or pull it up for the night.

"Well, I don't think they are." Sansa rose to her feet and moved over to Erza. To the redhead's surprise, she began to braid Erza's hair, "Father would never even consider letting me marry Joffrey if his family were dangerous. I believe Joffrey to be a good prince, and a good man. He is certainly dashing isn't he?"

Erza sighed, "He made an interesting first impression." She replied, recalling how he rode in with incredible confidence while his bodyguard, a man simply known as the Hound, rode beside him.

"You can have your opinion." Sansa remarked as she finished braiding Erza's hair, "I will have mine. However," She glanced over at the small mirror in the wardrobe, "Do you think he will like me?"

Erza arched an eyebrow as she glanced back at Sansa.

"What if he thinks I'm not pretty?"

"If he doesn't think you're pretty then he isn't worth your time." Erza replied sharply.

"But he's the prince! And he will be King. And I could be a queen. Just like in all of the stories."

Erza simply sighed, "Sansa, stories are not real life." She turned to face the young Stark, "And don't worry. You look beautiful."

For the first time since she met her, Sansa Stark gave Erza a genuine smile.

"I know one person who will say the same about you." Sansa muttered.

Erza looked at her puzzled, "Who?"

Sansa just chuckled and shook her head. Without another word, she took Erza's hand and the pair made their way down to the great hall for the feast.

….

There were many perks to being the bastard of a noble lord. For one, Jon Snow was not required to sit at the family table for the feast. No, Lady Catelyn would never allow that. The queen might be offended if a bastard sat in her presence. But Jon was glad for that decision. It meant there would be less bitter stares between him and Lady Stark. Less awkward moments for his Lord Father as he juggled loyalty to his wife and displaying affection for his son. Overall, it was a lot less attention. Something the Bastard of Winterfell very much preferred.

The second benefit of being a bastard was that he could drink all he wanted, and no one would care. Hell, the other knights, squires, bastards, and servants were more likely to urge him to drink more rather than tell him to follow the courtesies of a noble house. He was a bastard, hardly noticeable for someone like Queen Cersei, or even King Robert. If he made a fool of himself, no one would mind.

 _Save for my father._ Jon paused as he brought another drink to his lips. Instead of guzzling it down like he did previous ones, he just sipped it. As he did this, his eyes wandered the room before falling on her again.

Erza Scarlet.

Was it the wine thinking for him, or did she look this incredible sober as well? She hadn't been able to talk to him all night. The two friends were separated by duty. One to avoid being seen, the other to be seen beside the Stark children and ready to defend them. He had watched quietly and fumed as Erza was giving a cold greeting by the Queen as well as a mocking bow from Ser Jaime. And Jon smiled widely when he saw her give Jaime an unsettling glare that made even the Kingslayer hesitate to approach her. Though one who wasn't paying attention wouldn't notice that. The Kingslayer still wore that cocky grin that he always seemed to have on.

 _She is certainly intense._ He thought before taking another sip.

The feast was beginning to grow more rowdy. King Robert had long ago left the high table and was drinking among the common folk, kissing strange women, and singing bawdy songs with the minstrel. Queen Cersei and Lady Catelyn remained at the high table, both picking at their food and observing the crowd that had gathered for the feast. The queen silently fumed at her husband while Lady Catelyn glared at Jon several times before speaking to Lord Stark or her children.

"Hey." Jon felt a hand tug on his sleeve. He turned to see Theon Greyjoy standing beside him. The Ironborn nodded at Erza and grinned, "You have an eye for redheads I see."

Jon scowled and turned away.

"Oh don't be like that." Theon protested with a wry smirk, "Any one of us would love to fuck her." Jon clenched his jaw, "Do you think she likes you? I don't know. I hear that when a woman is aggressive to a man, it means she likes them. And well… she's always trying to punch me." Theon's grin widened, "Maybe I should try getting her into bed."

"Would you shut up!" Jon shouted, much more loudly than intended.

The minstrel stopped playing and all eyes turned to Jon. Jon felt his face go hot and his cheeks burned red.

"Excuse me." He muttered before bowing his head and retreating out of the room.

….

Erza heard the outburst before she saw it. And instantly, she knew it was the Greyjoy's fault. She watched as the entire feast fell silent, every eye turning towards Jon Snow. The bastard who dared to speak harshly at a festive event where he was supposed to remain unseen and unheard. She could see the cold glare Lady Catelyn was giving him. Colder than the frozen wind of the North itself. Lord Stark just frowned then returned to his own thoughts. And once Jon rushed out, the music continued, the bawdy songs were sung louder, and more wine was poured.

Erza had barely touched her own glass. Her sole focus tonight was on her job. But now, after Jon's outburst, she could feel her mind beginning to stray. She was worried about him. It was very unlike Jon to lash out like that. Whenever Theon would antagonize him, he would normally just ignore the boy. Erza pursed her lips then looked at Lord Stark.

"My lord-"

"Go ahead." The Lord of Winterfell muttered back. He was clearly aware of what Erza was about to ask. But his mind seemed to be elsewhere. She could see him subtly chewing on his fingernails between small sips of wine and small bites of meat. Something big was on his mind. He could not leave to speak to Jon as a father normally would. "I'll have Jory watch the children."

Erza bowed, "Thank you." And she rushed out the of the hall.

The night air was cold. She could see her breath misting in front of her face. Already, she wished she brought a coat with her. She shivered and rubbed her arms, doing her best to keep warm.

 _I'll never get used to this._ She thought.

She heard a loud cry and then the sound of steel biting into one of the straw practice dummies in the yard. Despite the frigid night and her own cautiousness, Erza couldn't suppress a light smile.

Of course Jon went to where the swords were. It was how both of them would vent their frustrations. There was nothing better at clearing the mind than a good workout. Erza strode over across the yard and saw Jon hacking furiously at the dummy. And her inner swordsman was not pleased.

"You're flat footed."

Jon's arms shuddered as his sword bit into the dummy, "I don't care right now!" He drew his sword back and swung as hard as he could again. The steel bounced off of the burlap and straw, causing him to stumble to the side.

"I told you." Erza remarked as she drew closer.

"I'm not exactly practicing right now." Jon growled back. He reared back for another swing, only this time, Erza's hand whipped out and caught him by the wrist.

"But you should be." Erza replied calmly. Jon let out a defeated sigh and allowed his arms to fall to his sides.

"Can't you see I'm angry?"

"That and embarrassed." Erza replied, "Don't worry. It happens to the best of us."

Jon grit his teeth, "But what Theon said-"

"Doesn't matter." Erza folded her arms and leaned up against the walls of Winterfell, "You can't let him get under your skin like that."

"It wasn't me he was insulting."

Erza cocked an eyebrow, "Was it me?"

Jon clenched his jaw and nodded.

"That spineless idiot." Erza muttered under her breath, "Can't even work up the courage to talk to my damn face." She huffed, "I'll have a few choice words for him."

"Do you like him?"

Erza jerked her head back and felt it slam into the wall behind her. The shock of the question mixed with the sudden pain lancing through her head made her groan and see stars.

"I think you drank too much." Erza replied as she rubbed the growing welt on her head.

Jon was about to reply when he caught himself. He then nodded, "You're probably right."

"You know I am." Erza grinned, "So no more tonight."

"I think he should be allowed to drink as much as he wants." A new voice piped up.

Erza's hand grabbed the sword on her back. She wrenched it free from the laces, not even noticing that she cut through most of them, then twirled around to point the weapon at the newcomer. Jon always swiveled to face their uninvited guest, only he kept his blade down. He wasn't focused on the small man strutting towards them, a small bottle in his hand. No, Jon was focused on the dress slowly slipping down from Erza's shoulders.

"Erza." Jon gulped.

"Already getting naked for me?" The little man smirked. Erza glanced down and saw the dress slipping. Her face went red and she quickly dropped her sword and grabbed the top of the dress, keeping it from falling past her chest.

The little man smirked and leaned up against the wall, "I don't normally go for women as intimidating as you are. Swords aren't really something I find very attractive. But then again you are very pretty. Can I say I am flattered that you would do this without even knowing who I am?"

"Uh-"

"You're the Imp." Jon suddenly said, cutting Erza off and allowing the red head time to catch her breath.

The small man with dirty blonde hair let out a heavy sigh, "Yes. I am the Imp." He held out his stunted hand to both Erza and Jon, "Tyrion Lannister. And you must be Lord Stark's Bastard," Jon clenched his teeth behind his lips, "And the She-Man Lady Sansa mentioned earlier."

"She's not a She-Man." Jon growled back.

"Oh, I can already tell those tales are false." Tyrion replied as he nodded at Erza, "You will be quite the prize for whatever man chooses to marry you. Truly that gown was stunning on you. A shame it was ruined by that sword."

"What do you want, Lord Tyrion?" Jon growled while Erza glared furiously at the Imp. But he seemed unperturbed.

"Nothing. Just came out for a breath of fresh, cold," He shivered, "Very cold air. And to sip my own wine." Tyrion brought his bottle to his lips, took a long gulp, then let out a loud, satisfied sigh, "What about you bastard. What are you doing out here with her? Are you two planning on kissing in the moonlight?"

Erza blushed bright red. Meanwhile, Jon could feel a vein starting to protrude on his head.

"Stop calling me that!" Jon barked.

"Calling you what?" Tyrion replied calmly.

"You know full well." Erza growled, ready to defend her friend.

"Oh." Tyrion nodded to himself, "You mean bastard." He chuckled as Jon only grew angrier and Erza grew more frustrated, "Is what I'm saying untrue? Are you not your father's son?"

Jon drew back, "I… I am Lord Stark's son, yes."

"But not Lady Catelyn's. Therefore, you are a bastard." Tyrion slowly strode up to Jon, "So, let me give you some advice, bastard. Never forget who you are, the world certainly won't. Wear it like armor, then it cannot be used hurt you."

Erza furrowed her brow as Tyrion patted Jon on the arm and began to stride away. As he walked, he pressed the bottle to his lips yet again.

"And what the hell do you know about being a bastard!?" Jon called after the Imp.

The stunted Lannister turned to look back at the pair, "All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes." He then sighed and gave them a wry smirk, "Now then, I won't interrupt you two anymore. Have fun… but not too much fun. I doubt Lord and Lady Stark would appreciate such actions being performed in public." He raised his bottle and disappeared inside of the castle.

When the door shut, Erza huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. The arms of her gown drooping as she moved.

"I don't like him." She grumbled.

"Neither do I." Jon agreed.

"He reminds me of someone," Erza felt her spine shiver at the thought of another stunted man back home in Fiore, "But, unlike that someone, he is at least well spoken."

"But not well mannered." Jon noted. He then cleared his throat and was about to continue talking when he saw a black horse and ride come trotting into the castle. Jon's eyes widened and his face broke out into a smile, all previous frustrations and embarrassments forgotten, "It's Uncle Benjen." He grinned.

Erza glanced over at the ride as he dismounted his horse. The man was nearly the spitting image of Lord Stark, only leaner and lankier. His hair seemed a tad darker than the other Starks and his eyes held a sharp, focused edge honed by years of living around danger. He looked exactly how Erza expected the First Ranger of the Night's Watch to look.

Jon hesitated as he rushed to greet his Uncle. He glanced back at Erza.

"Go ahead." Erza said, she swallowed hard. Her thoughts now drifted to Gray. No doubt he was sleeping fitfully in his cell beneath the castle. Benjen Stark was the man who would take him and Jon to the Wall. He was the last person Erza wanted to see, let alone meet. "I need to go back to my room and change anyways. It's a little cold to be walking around like this."

"R-right." Jon replied.

"Um…" Erza rubbed her arm, "So, I'll see you tomorrow morning for training?"

"Yes!" Jon replied enthusiastically.

Erza gave him a halfhearted smile, "Good. Well, goodnight Jon Snow."

"Goodnight, Erza." Jon smiled before finally rushing up to greet his Uncle.

 **And chapter! That was fun! That was a lot of fun to write! Took me a little bit to put it together but I think this came out really well. I'm considering writing chapters from GOT character's perspectives as well, especially since a lot of the fun of this story is how they react to the Fairy Tail wizards and their strange shenanigans. Let me know what you guys think on that. And let me know what you all thought of this chapter! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	26. Levy V

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Levy

Levy felt incredibly hot. Sweat was rolling down her face in large beads. Her back ached. Occasionally, a sharp pain would shoot through her from one of the many gashes that had torn open her skin. And her head would not stop pounding. Her entire body felt like it was rolling, swaying. It was a stomach churning feeling and it took everything in her not to wake up and vomit right where she was lying. And despite the heat, she could not stop shivering. The sweat ran cold down her body as she curled herself up on the soft surface she was lying on.

 _Wait…_ Levy's weary mind realized, _I'm not in water?_ She ran a trembling hand along what felt like a soft mattress with scratchy sheets. _Am I dead?_

Her eyes slowly cracked open. Her heart jumped to her throat.

She recognized what type of room this was. This was an Ironborn captain's quarters. There was a desk near the only window on the ship. It was littered with maps, quills, inkwells, and what appeared to be a half eaten loaf of bread with jam. There were several expensive chairs resting beside the deck. All of them were bolted down to the floor. Then there was the modest wardrobe near the door and the rack with several swords hanging on it.

Her gut reaction was fear. She was in an Ironborn cabin? Was she on the _Silence_ again? Did she fail to escape? Her chest began to heave as panic seized her. Then she realized one thing. There was not a single velvet chair in the room. And it was far too messy in here to be Euron's cabin. Euron kept his cabin impeccably clean. This cabin looked somewhat normal. What Levy would expect a pirate captain's cabin to look like.

 _Where am I?_ Levy wondered as the panic slowly ebbed away and was replaced by sudden nausea, chills, and exhaustion.

She heard a loud, furious woman's voice pierce the sounds of the ocean. A flurry of curse words erupted from the closed door. She heard a loud crack and the woman's curses became completely incoherent. Levy then heard a much more even toned voice attempting to speak to the woman. Then a third voice, another feminine voice, yet somehow it sounded deeper than the woman's. He was joking with her. Which only served to make the woman even more furious. Levy gulped as she heard three sets of footsteps marching towards the cabin door.

The door burst open. It slammed loudly against.

"Fucking idiots!" A woman with dark hair bellowed as she marched in. She slammed her sword onto the rack, knocking it over. And she cursed loudly again.

"You need to take a breath, Captain." A large, heavily muscled man with graying hair advised. His even toned voice sharply contrasting with the raging woman, who was now fighting with an uncooperative sword rack.

"She is, Barrock. But those breaths continue to come out as screams of rage." The third person said. Levy cocked an eyebrow. Was he a man or a woman? He had long dark hair and a hairless face. A cocky grin sat on his lips as he leaned against the wall of the room. Meanwhile, the older man closed the door behind them.

"Those fucking screams are entirely justified right now!" The woman growled when she finally got the sword rack standing upright. She brushed some hair from her face, "How in the name of the Drowned God does a mast crack from a man running into it!?"

"Weak wood?" The third raider suggested with a wry grin.

The woman scowled, "That's your problem, Qarl. Not my ship's." She strode over to a chair and slumped into it. Then she buried her hands into her face, "This fucking trip keeps going from bad to worse."

"Don't let the men catch you saying that." The large man named Barrock advised, "Doubt that'd go over well."

"The old man isn't wrong on that one." Qarl nodded.

"I'm well aware I need to remain composed for the crew." The woman, who Levy now established was the captain of this ship, replied, "But when something that fucking stupid occurs, I just can't help but get pissed." She glanced over at her two friends, "The storm probably did it. We did take a pounding that night. Fuck! I should've checked that myself the next fucking morning." She chucked a dagger across the room. The blade buried itself in the desk, "I'm a fucking idiot."

"No. You were worried about your crew before your ship. It's not a bad thing. That storm was quite violent." Barrock consoled.

"Aye. I know already, dammit. I-" The woman stopped speaking. Her dark eyes swiveled over to Levy.

Levy quickly squeezed her eyes shut. But she knew that didn't work. She could feel the woman's gaze on her.

"She's a terrible faker, isn't she?" The feminine voice of Qarl noted.

"Out, you little shit!" The woman barked, "You're not needed right now."

"As you will, Captain. But I know you will need me tonight. Stress must be relieved after all."

Levy heard something being thrown across the room before the door opened and quickly shut again.

"I fucking hate him sometimes." She heard the woman mutter. Levy heard a chair being moved from across the room.

"Then why'd you sleep with him?"

"Mention that again and I don't care who the fuck you are, I'll chop your balls off."

There was silence, then a firm, "Aye, captain."

"Alright!" A pair of hands clapped in front of Levy's face, startling her awake, "Quit faking it. I know you're awake." The woman said harshly as Levy's weary eyes shot open.

"You could've been more gentle." Barrock advised.

"I don't want to hear it right now." The captain growled. She then turned back to face Levy.

Right away, Levy could see this was not a woman to be messed with. She wasn't extremely beautiful, nor was she ugly. Her skin was chaffed by the salt wind of the sea. Her hair was tangled in places, no doubt caused by several days without bathing mixed with salty sea spray drying in her hair. And her dark eyes were hard and unwavering. They burrowed holes into Levy and made her feel completely inferior.

Those eyes narrowed and Levy retreated on instinct as the woman reached out towards her head.

"I ain't gonna hurt you." The woman snarled. Levy was less than convinced. But she was surprised when the woman simply placed her hand on her forehead, "Fever is still there." The Captain then eyed Levy carefully, "And your paler than fresh milk, isn't she Barrock?"

"But she's lived this long." The older man remarked, "I doubt the fever will take her."

"But the infection may still." The Captain warned, "Not much we can do about that now. Other than wash it often of course." She drew back from Levy and leaned back in her chair, her jaw shifting left and right as she stared at the blue haired girl. "You're a peculiar one." The Captain crossed her legs and frowned, "How in the hell did you managed to survive the sea's fury in your condition?"

Levy didn't answer the question. Mostly because she thought it was rhetorical. But also because she was still terrified. This may not be the _Silence_ , but this was still an Ironborn ship. That much was clear. In her experience, the more an Ironborn knew about you, the more likely they were to hurt you. She kept silent.

The Captain's face contorted in irritation. She then grit her teeth and shook her head, "Look, the ocean may not have killed you. But I still can. I got a crew to look out for here," The Captain pointed at the deck, "on _my_ ship _._ And on _my_ ship, my questions are answered immediately and clearly. So if you want to be safe, I suggest answering me. Am I clear?"

Levy didn't say anything.

"Are you a fucking mute? Do you not understand me? Or are you simply stupid?"

"N-no?" Levy replied in a hoarse whisper.

The Captain nodded, "Well you can at least talk. Good. So… do you understand me? Do you understand that I expect you to answer me truthfully, or so help me I will make your life miserable. Truth can be the difference between life and death on the seas. And I sure as shit am not leading my crew to their deaths." The Captain took a breath, "So… first question, a tad stupid one, but one I must ask. Are you dangerous?"

Levy slowly shook her head. How could she be dangerous? She could barely move.

"Aye, I thought not. Just wanted to be sure. You never know what a person is like when you find them floating in the sea."

"Like that one time we picked up a man who claimed to be a minstrel-"

"Don't remind of that incident Barrock, please." The Captain glared at the older man, "That is… that is something we do not speak of."

The man nodded stiffly and the Captain returned to looking at Levy.

"So, next question then. Who are you?"

Levy kept her mouth shut. And the Captain let out an irritated huff.

"Easy way or hard way, girl?" She crossed her arms, "You pick."

Levy gulped. She knew what the hard way was when it came to the Ironborn. It wasn't just hard. It was cruel. Deadly even. She could already see herself being thrown into another cell. Or worse, meeting another cat-o-nine tails. Pain burned in her back as she thought of the many lashes ripping through her flesh yet again. It was enough to convince her to speak.

"Levy." She replied quietly.

"Levy huh." The Captain nodded, "Good. That's a start." The Captain then held out her hand, "Yara."

Levy hesitated then weakly gripped Yara's hand, shaking it for a brief moment before allowing her shaking limb to fall back to the mattress. Yara then jabbed a thumb back at the massive, bearded man.

"That is Barrock, my first mate." She glanced back at him, "Say hello to Levy, Barrock."

He gave Levy an intimidating scowl.

"Bah! Don't pay him any mind. He's just trying to maintain his reputation. Old Barrock is actually a softy nowadays." Yara grinned as she saw a flash of anger dance through the old man's eyes before it quickly disappeared, "But not with me." She continued, "I'm very good at annoying him."

Levy didn't react. She remained blank, trying to figure out the situation she was in. Yara appeared to be friendly. Harsh absolutely, but still friendly. Then again, she thought Euron was friendly at first too. Even with how weak she felt, Levy kept her guard up. For all she knew, she'd have to attempt another insane escape attempt.

"Ok. Next question." Yara leaned forward, "How did you end up in the sea? And what happened to your back? Or your health in general? Because you look like shit."

Levy saw the memories flashing in her mind. Euron's rage, the mute men of the ship, the storm, the cell. The pain and misery of it all. Her stomach twisted into knots and her eyes were darting all over the cabin, looking for a way to escape.

Yara snapped her fingers in front of Levy's face, "Hey, answer me."

Levy gulped, "I-I was on a Greyjoy ship. I-" She let out a shaky breath, "I did something the captain did not like. So he-" Her eyes began to tear up and she started to shudder.

To her surprise, she saw the Yara's face soften for a brief moment.

"Whipped you eh?" Yara finished for her.

Levy nodded then let out a shaky breath, "I-I es-escaped in the st-storm. Threw myself overboard."

Both Yara and Barrock's eyes widened.

"Are you fucking mad?" Yara asked.

"More like ballsy." Barrock remarked.

Yara then blinked, "Wait a moment. What ship did you say you were on?"

She could see that Levy was struggling with the memories. The girl was petrified of her own thoughts. Her teeth were chattering. Her hands were clenched tight around the blanket that covered her frail form. Yara could see pure fear in her innocent brown eyes. And that worried the Captain of _The_ _Black Wind._

"I was on a Greyjoy ship." Levy reiterated.

Yara nearly let out a laugh. She snorted and shook her head at Levy, "You've got shit fucking luck. You know that right?"

Levy gulped. The knot tightened in her stomach, "What do you mean?"

Yara sighed, "Cause I'm a Greyjoy too."

The girl instantly tensed and scooted as far away from Yara as she could get. But Yara didn't move. She just gave the girl a puzzled look.

"As far as I'm aware, I'm the only Greyjoy in these waters?" Yara could feel her chest starting to tighten as a horrible thought entered her mind. But she couldn't just jump to conclusions. Her men were counting on her to make them rich. But if _he_ was here, would her men care that they returned to Pyke empty handed? "What ship were you on, Levy?" Yara asked again.

Levy noticed the sudden change in Yara's demeanor. The Captain suddenly seemed on edge. Barrock noticed this as well. The large mad gripped the handle of an axe that hung from his belt. His muscles tense, ready for anything.

"Silence." Levy whispered.

"Hey, girl!" Barrock snapped, "You don't speak to the Captain that way."

"Shut it, Barrock! That's a fucking order!" Yara barked before looking at Levy. Fear replaced worry in the Greyjoy's eyes, "What did you say?"

Levy gulped and squeezed her eyes shut, "Silence." She said through clenched teeth. Then she began to silently cry.

Yara jumped to her feet. Her chair clattered to the floor.

"Barrock!" She turned to her first mate, "Get all hands to stations. I want all oarsmen rowing at full speed. Have the masts lowered, I want to catch a good wind immediately! Make for Pyke at once."

Barrock gave her puzzled look, "May I ask why, Captain? We haven't got any plunder. The men will be very cross."

"They will be happy that they got home with their lives." Yara gulped, " _The Silence_ is near here." Barrock's confused expression shifted to deep worry, " _He_ is near here."

The old man gave her a stiff nod, "Right away Captain. I'll see you at the helm?"

"In a moment, but get us moving to Pyke immediately. I don't like these waters anymore."

"Aye." The old man strode out of the cabin.

As soon as he exited, his gruff, booming voice began barking orders and the sound of dozens of men moving swiftly across the shift filled the cabin. But Levy hardly noticed, she was too busy crying. She was finally able to cry like this. She didn't care if this Greyjoy was as cruel as Euron. She needed to cry.

Then she felt a handkerchief rubbing her cheeks before a cold, damp cloth was placed on her forehead.

"Don't you die on me, Levy." Yara said, her tone much softer than when Barrock was in the room, "I need you when we get to Pyke." She gulped, "Otherwise my father may not believe me." She took a deep breath. Levy stared at her stunned, "I have to get to the helm. My crew will have questions. And like I told you, when it comes to answering questions at sea, I must give them the truth. But unlike you, I cannot care if they like it or not." She moved to the door, "I am not losing my crew to the Crow's Eye." She opened the door and looked back at Levy, "Rest. I'll wake you when I feel it is safe to do so."

The door closed. Levy felt sudden exhaustion take over. Her eyes closed, even though she was doing everything in her power to remain awake. Soon she fell into a restless sleep. Memories of Euron's smiling eye dancing through her nightmares.

 **And chapter! Levy has now met Yara Greyjoy! I know, Yara is not the same as the book version of her character (Asha). But it has been quite literally years since I've read the books and I'm still on GOT when it comes to re-reading ASOIAF. The show is much more recent for me, so that's what I'm basing a lot of my characterizations on. That being said, as I progress in the actual books I'll probably add more book details into this story. (Qarl the Maid for example. Thank you reviewers for reminding me about that great character!)**

 **As for this chapter, I feel like this is exactly how Yara would both treat and react to Levy. Yara is not a kind person. She is pretty harsh and brash. But she is not insane and knows how to treat someone with respect and dignity. And she loves her crew and ship. I tried to show some of that in this chapter. I also believe that her terrified reaction to news of Euron being nearby is 100% correct. She's probably grown up on horror stories of Euron and The Silence and knows of it's fearsome reputation. The last thing she'd want to do is engage the Silence in open battle without any help. So, off to Pyke Levy goes. I wonder what Lord Balon and the Ironborn will think of her. A book worm living in a kingdom of raiders and pirates. Should be interesting. Anyways, let me know what you guys think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	27. Wendy V Gray III

A Song of Fairies  
Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Wendy; Gray

The Red Keep was not the same without Myrcella and Tommen around. There was no one to play with. No one to really talk to either. Wendy sighed as she walked through the massive castles halls. The days were so boring now that the palace was empty. Her only company pawed along the floor beside her. The great and fat Ser Pounce. Tommen had asked her to keep an eye on his beloved cat. And Wendy was more than happy to do so. She had half a mind to introduce the massive cat to Carla at some point. But after further thought, she concluded that may not be a good idea. Carla couldn't stand other cats. Let alone ones that were as primitive as Ser Pounce.

Wendy paused and rolled her ankle. Her calf felt sore, the small muscle still struggling to grow strong again.

The King and his family had left nearly a month ago. In that time, her leg had finally healed. Much to both her and Petyr's delight. It finally allowed her to move around without any help. And she took full advantage of her new mobility. Petyr gladly took her to the Red Keep when she asked to come along. And with the King and Queen absent, Wendy was allowed to roam the palace at her leisure. All she had to do was say she was related to Lord Baelish to any passerby who questioned her, and they would quickly apologize a move on their way. Especially the few Gold Cloaks that guarded the courtyards and walls. With such freedom available to her, she explored as much as she could.

She had visited the kitchens several times. Although the chef there was a grumpy old man, he still allowed her to take some rolls back to Petyr's home so that she could share them with Carla. They were flaky, buttery, and melted in her mouth. Everyday, she would thank the chef, take some more and be on her merry way, a wide smile on her face.

Today was like the others. A pair of warm rolls were sandwiched between her fingers as she made her way through the labyrinth that was the Red Keep. She had memorized her way back to the great hall. A left turn at one corridor, then up a flight of stairs, then a right, then follow the torches that lead to the Iron Throne.

She entered the main hall. It was quiet, empty, like it had been for the past few weeks. Her footsteps echoed loudly off of the cavernous hall. With a wide grin on her face, she scurried down the steps that led to the Iron Throne and strode towards the great doors. Just as she was halfway there, a second set of footsteps emerged from a side passage. A doughy looking man with a pale, powdered face and bald head emerged. Wendy jumped as he suddenly appeared, nearly dropping her rolls from fright.

"Oh pardon me." The man said, his voice soft and slippery as he spoke, "I did not mean to frighten you Miss Wendy."

Wendy regained her bearings and gave the bald man a warm smile, "It's alright, sir." She replied. He seemed familiar. Where had she seen her again? She frowned, "I apologize, but I seem to have forgotten your name?"

The man smirked, "A trait that I am glad I possess. I can be quite forgettable when I choose to be." He held out a pudgy hand to her, "Varys."

Wendy's eyes widened, "Th-the-"

"The Spider, yes." He retracted his hand, "I have no doubts Lord Baelish has told you all about me."

Wendy's warm smile retreated from her face. Petyr had indeed told her all about Lord Varys. The King's Master of Whisperers. The spymaster, the Spider, the least trustworthy man in all of the seven kingdoms, according to Petyr. He was dangerous. Although Petyr never told her how or why he was dangerous. Just that he was. And that if she were to ever run into him, to guard her words and leave him as quickly as possible.

"He has." Wendy finally replied, her tone guarded, jaw tight as she spoke.

Lord Varys nodded, "Many pleasant things, I'm sure." He looked down at her legs, "I see you are finally on your feet once again."

"Oh yes," Wendy managed a forced grin, "It took a while, but I'm getting strong again."

"Wonderful news. A child without the ability to walk, is a child who can hardly do anything at all." Varys remarked with a small smile, "May I ask, I'm afraid I don't recall, but how did you come about your injury again?"

"Oh I-"

"She was attacked," The strong, crisp voice of Petyr rang through the main hall. Wendy let out a huge sigh of relief as the slight man strode up to her, a large book wedged in the crook of his arm. His eyes never leaving Varys even as he came to a stop beside Wendy, "Poor thing was attacked by some ruffians in the streets."

"On the Street of Silk?" Varys frowned, "A rather uncommon occurrence, especially in such a rich portion of that neighborhood. It must have been quite the frightful experience, Wendy."

"She is strong." Petyr replied before Wendy could speak, "The attackers were driven off by the city watch, thank the seven. Then I found her and took her in."

Varys raised an eyebrow, "Did you now? I thought she was a cousin visiting from the Fingers?"

"From a village in the Fingers that even I had never heard of." Petyr replied smoothly, "You know how the small folk are. They breed like rabbits. Occasionally, one of us lesser house folk do venture into that world. Not all of us can climb the ladder and marry true nobility. She is a relation of mine, though a little distant I'm afraid."

Varys nodded, "Such things are true. I seem to recall in my own youth, back when I was a slave in Essos, that there were several other children who seemed to look very similar to me. Perhaps we were all related. Maybe by the same father or mother," he shrugged, "I may never know. It is very fortunate that you were able to connect with a long lost member of House Baelish."

"Quite fortunate." Petyr glanced down at Wendy and nudged her shoulder gently, "Go on. The carriage is waiting outside. Lord Varys and I need to have a little chat."

Wendy gave Petyr a hesitant glance before looked over at Varys.

"It was a pleasure speaking with you, Little Wendy. Although brief, I do find our conversations entertaining and enlightening." He gave her slight bow, which Wendy returned before hurrying out the doors.

She quickly shut the great doors of the Red Keep behind her and let out a long breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. Lord Varys… she shivered. There was something about that man that unsettled her. He unsettled everyone now that she thought about it. No one seemed to really trust him. Not King Robert, not Queen Cersei, even the King's kind brother, Lord Renly, seemed to regard the man with distaste. She made a note to avoid the Spider.

She was about to march down to the carriage when she paused. She could hear them through the doors. Her heightened senses could make out the sharp voice of Petyr sparring with the soft, even toned Varys. She craned her head. Curiosity bubbled in her. She pressed her ear to the door.

"It seems my little birds have brought me news." Varys spoke.

"Oh… have they?" Petyr replied in a mocking tone, "Please, tell me this riveting news."

"It seems that King Robert plans to name Lord Eddard Stark as Hand to the King. What with the unfortunate, abrupt passing of Lord Arryn." She heard Petyr reply with silence, "A man of honor," Varys continued, "Perhaps such a thing is needed on the small council."

"Men of honor are good and all." Petyr replied, "But they tend to be rather stupid. Bull headed. Ignorant. He will not survive King's Landing if he is as the stories I've heard say."

"Oh!?" Varys feigned surprise, "And what stories would those be?"

"Well… that he is a strict follower of the law. He is a man of justice."

"Indeed, justice and honor seem to be paramount to the Starks. A noble thing for a family to claim."

"Even if they were the ones who originally rebelled against the Mad King and forsook their oaths." Petyr countered, "Such an honorable thing for them to do, no?"

Wendy could practically see Varys give Petyr a shrug, "Changes must be made… for the good of the realm of course."

"Indeed, for the good of the realm." Petyr replied jovially.

There was a long silence, then Wendy could barely make out Varys's hushed tone. ANd she was stunned to hear the venom in it. The sudden seething that slipped from his tongue and into her ears.

"What good is all this, Littlefinger." He whispered, "What do you plan on doing? This Chaos that is being created, it is a pit. And it will swallow everyone if we do not mend it."

"Oh, my dear friend." She heard Petyr clasp Varys on the shoulder, "Trying to be more direct now that your subtle methods failed are we? Well, you will have to try harder. Although I will tell you this. Chaos is not a pit. Chaos is a ladder." She sensed Petyr's voice fall to a hushed whisper, "You will remain away from Wendy."

"Or?"

"Or the King will be looking for a new Spider to weave his web of lies and deceit for him." Petyr growled.

To Wendy's amazement, Varys did not sound afraid. Instead, he sounded amused.

"Webs are carefully crafted constructs, Lord Baelish. And if one is to remove the chief engineer of them, one risks shattering that web and all that it holds together."

Wendy gulped when she heard Petyr's response.

"Isn't that the point of chaos?"

….

Gray

It was not the sun rising that awoke Gray this morning. Today it was the growling of his stomach that woke him up. His dark eyes slowly fluttered open and he uttered a long groan. It felt like his stomach was eating itself. A painful pit was forming. Even though the meals were meager here in the dungeons of Winterfell, he was looking forward to eating the bread and salted meat the jailor would bring him. He didn't used to bring him meat at first. But then he met Erza. The next day after that fateful meeting, Gray started being fed much better.

Gray snorted as he remembered the vile man actually treating him with respect all of a sudden. It did not take long for him to put two and two together. Erza intimidated him. Gray knew how that felt. He had a little sympathy for the guy. He was just trying to do his job after all. But then again, Gray's life had been miserable since he had ended up in the cell. He deserved a little bit of a break.

 _I've been miserable since I woke up in that damn ice storm._ He thought to himself as he dragged his aching body upright. He rubbed his eyes as he awoke. Every joint and muscle in his body groaned and creaked.

 _Sleeping on straw has not been good for me._ He winced and rubbed his back before letting out a loud yawn.

"Sleep well?" A low, strong voice asked.

Gray's eyes snapped open and his drowsiness faded immediately. There was someone new down here. Someone he had not met yet? Was it another prisoner? Some thief or poacher? Perhaps another deserter from the Night's Watch? Maybe? But to Gray's surprise, the voice did not come from any of the cells around him. Instead, it came from a tall, dark haired man that stood on the other side of his cell door.

Gray looked the newcomer up and down. He looked like Lord Stark, only leaner, and somehow harder. A tad younger as well. But just barely. Then he saw his attire. Black boots, a black cloak, a black leather tunic, and black gloves. If Gray wasn't expecting this man to show up soon, then he would have assumed that this was Winterfell's undertaker.

"Benjen Stark, I assume?" Gray asked before stretching his arms above his head.

The man in black arched an eyebrow, "How would you know?"

"A friend of mine told me you were gonna be here soon." Gray folded his arms, "Didn't exactly tell me when though. But I figured it'd be soon." Gray felt his lips turn into a wry smirk, "Seems my definition of soon is very different from yours. I've been sleeping in this cell for months now. And to answer your question, no… I do not sleep well in here."

"Why?" Benjen Stark asked, "Too cold for you?"

Gray snorted, "I couldn't care less about the cold." He rapped his knuckles on the ground, "Not exactly a luxury mattress."

Benjen nodded, "Fair point." The cell door opened and the man stepped in.

Indeed he was thinner than Eddard Stark. His jaw was sharp, eyes a little hollow, as if he had not enjoyed the comforts of life for a long time. His dark eyes stared down at Gray.

"So… I'm taking you to the Wall."

Gray pursed his lips, "Aye."

"And why am I taking you to the Wall?"

Gray bit his tongue. He wanted to say that he was going to the Wall for a completely bullshit reason that made no sense to him whatsoever. That he was innocent of any crime he had committed and if he did commit a crime, was not aware he was doing so. He wanted to declare that he was a victim of a cruel and unusual punishment. But instead, he took a long breath.

"Aiding a deserter." He finally answered.

Benjen Stark's eyes narrowed. He was disgusted. "Oh really." He growled, "Would it be that young lad Will you helped desert."

Gray clenched his jaw, "Aye."

"And you are to take his place, I assume."

Gray merely nodded.

Benjen let out a sharp breath and knelt down to Gray's eye level. The pair stared hard at each other. Both gauging the man across from them. Gray could see that Benjen did not like him. It didn't surprise him. In his eyes, he helped a man flee the Night's Watch. There could be no greater crime for the Brother's in Black. Not only was it dishonorable. But it endangered every man that stood watch at the Wall. But despite the silent anger being directed at him, Gray did not break his stare. In the end, it was Benjen Stark who finally broke the silence.

"You're a little thin." He glanced at Gray's body, "Not been fed well?"

"The meals have gotten better since my friend talked to my lovely jailor." Gray replied sarcastically.

Benjen frowned, "And you have a sharp tongue. Lovely." He grumbled, "Another piece of street rat scum for the Wall." He scowled, "You won't survive."

Gray narrowed his eyes at the man, "You will find that I am full of surprises."

"Oh really? Like what?"

"Well," Gray smirked, "I'm still alive, aren't I? That has to be surprise number one. Normally deserters are executed. And well…" He cringed and rubbed the back of his neck, "It was close."

"But your friend intervened?"

"She did." Gray replied.

"She?" Benjen craned his head back, "The red haired woman?"

"Her name is Erza." Gray snarled, "And yes, she was the one who has been helping me." He let out a sigh, "She's been helping me for a long time now." Gray quirked an eyebrow, "How do you know about her?"

"I saw her as I rode into the yard. She was speaking with my nephew." He replied.

Gray furrowed his brow, "Which one? The climber, the oldest one, or the bastard?"

He actually managed to illicit a small chuckle from Benjen Stark. It surprised them both.

"Jon." Benjen answered.

"Ah." Gray nodded, "I know about him. Erza talks about him a lot actually. They're good friends."

"So my brother tells me." Benjen replied. He leaned close to Gray, "I will be taking you to the wall personally. And Jon will likely be coming with. If you so much as try to harm a hair on that boy's head before we reach Castle Black, I'll kill you myself."

Gray swallowed hard. There was no hesitation in Benjen Stark's voice. No guilt, no thoughts of doubt. He meant what he said. Gray shifted on the ground.

"Am I clear, Gray Fullbuster?" Benjen asked.

"Aye." Gray nodded.

Benjen nodded. He rose to his feet, turned, and walked out of Gray's cell. As his footsteps echoed down the hall, Gray's jailor shuffled in. He scowled at Gray, set a plate of bread and salted meat on the floor near the door, then locked the cell shut. Gray waited until he was a good distance away before he went over and scooped up his breakfast.

As he ate, he leaned up against the wall near the lone sliver of sunlight that entered the cell from the outside. It came from a narrow window, covered with iron bars. Far too narrow for any man to squeeze through. But wide enough to allow the warmth of the sun inside. Gray bit off a piece of meat and sighed. He gagged, swallowed, then glanced down at the meat in his hand.

"This taste gross." He tossed the now empty plate to door's edge. The jailor would pick it up eventually.

It would be another boring day, he figured. Benjen Stark was not returning to the Wall yet. He'd fetch Gray from this damn cell when that time came. So all he could do now was sit in here, stare at the stone walls, and be alone with his thoughts.

 _Hopefully Erza's able to visit._ Gray closed his eyes and sighed, _I need someone to talk too right about now._

 **And chapter! An interesting one to write. It appears Wendy may have discovered a bit of Petyr's more nefarious nature. That should be an interesting situation to watch develop. And Gray has officially met Benjen Stark and is set to go to the Wall.**

 **As you can see, I decided to experiment a little with this chapter. I wanted to see how writing two perspectives in one chapter would go. One of my personal favorite GOT stories does this (A Man of Iron; and, A Crack of Thunder. Both excellent fics that I highly recommend). So I decided to give it a shot. It definitely helped shorten the writing process a little bit. Normally it can be a little difficult to create a really good, proper length chapter for small scenes like these. I could've just skipped over them entirely, but I felt that these two were necessary for the story. It'll also help me churn out chapters for you all a little more regularly. Work has me stupid busy and I want to update this as much as I possibly can. Now for big events (Such as Robert's Arrival in Winterfell) I'd keep it to one perspective. Idk yet, it's just something I wanted to test out. Let me know your thoughts on it. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	28. Erza IX

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

Erza kept her eyes focused on the skinny form of young Bran Stark. He hefted the light wooden sword in his hand then proceeded to raise it above his head. The traditional start for a Westerosi knight. Especially for a warrior raised in the North. She could see Ser Rodrik nodding out of the corner of her eye. Across from Bran, stood the shorter, and plumper, prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Tommen Baratheon. Both boys were clad head to toe in padded leathers. Even though they were using wooden swords, Ser Rodrik wanted to take no chances.

"The last thing I need, and Lord Stark needs, is the little Baratheon wailing to his Lannister mother about a damn bruise." Was what Rodrik had said when Erza asked why he exercised such caution.

He had never demanded such padding be used before. And it was clear that Bran despised the stuff. She could see him tugging at his collar every swing or two as he and Tommen sparred. Erza could only smirk a little as she watched the two boys swing wildly at each other. Both were extremely inexperienced. Both had horrendous footwork. Both didn't know the first thing about swinging a sword properly. And both had a wide grin on their faces. The pair looked like the best of friends. But to Erza, it was clear who the true warrior was.

Bran had the frame, the speed, he had a natural gift; just like his brothers Jon and Robb. He had a way of focusing, finding a weak point in Tommen's meager defense, and striking at the perfect time. Tommen would howl every time Bran smacked the wooden blade against his body. Erza would simply smirk, Robb and Jon would quietly chuckle, the Tommen would go red in the face and try again.

"What do you think?" Jon asked.

"Bran's got potential." Erza replied as she watched the two boys continue, "He needs a lot of fine tuning though." She cringed as Bran slipped and Tommen tapped his on the head for the first time all morning.

Jon chuckled, "That he does." He glanced at her, "Do you plan on teaching him like you taught me and Robb?"

"If you father allows it sure." Erza said, "However, by the time he's old enough to handle my training…" She trailed off a little bit.

"You hope to be reunited with your family." Jon finished for her, "Your guildmates." He said much more quietly so only she could hear him.

"Aye."

"That's it Bran!" Robb shouted loudly as Bran spun and delivered a powerful blow to Tommen's side, sending the boy prince sprawling into the dirt.

"Well struck!" Ser Rodrik called.

Bran smiled at both of them then glanced over at Erza. Erza didn't yell out, she merely nodded her head. Bran then grinned from ear to ear.

"It seems he knows who the real master is around here." Jon smirked.

Erza shoved his arm, "Don't tell Ser Rodrik that. The old man will take offense."

"Do I look like I care?" Jon chuckled with Erza.

As the pair laughed, two newcomers strode into the yard. The first was a giant of a man, easily standing head and shoulders above Robb, Jon, and Ser Rodrik. He was powerfully built. Thick arms covered in black armor were crossed over a barrel shaped chest while powerful legs marched through the dirt and stone. His face was hideous to look at. Half of it was a mass of scarred, pink flesh. Seared like a piece of meat on a skillet. Just his physical appearance alone was enough to silence Erza and Jon's mirth.

"The Hound." Erza noted.

"And look who he brought with him." Jon muttered.

Beside the Hound strode the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. His golden hair closely cropped. His green eyes flicked back and forth between Bran and his little brother Tommen. He seemed to be observing the match. But instead of having fun with it like Erza and the Starks were, he seemed frustrated. Angry even. When Bran kicked Tommen to the ground, the Stark's were about to cheer but Joffrey's voice rose above them.

"Is this how men in the North learn to fight?" He asked, his voice filled with a mocking tone, "Playing pretend with wooden swords and padding?"

"Tis how all men learn to fight in my yard, your grace." Ser Rodrik barked back.

"Your yard?" Joffrey questioned, "So you are Lord Stark?" He glanced at the Hound, "It seems Lord Stark has aged a good dozen years, hasn't he Dog?"

The Hound remained silent. To Erza, he seemed bored.

Joffrey laughed, "Well then, as far as I know, this yard belongs to Lord Stark. Not some lowly sword master such as yourself."

"Watch your tongue boy." Ser Rodrik snapped back, "I've been in charge of training Stark's in this yard since before you were even a thought in your father's mind. I've trained Lord Stark, I've trained with Lord Stark's father, I've trained both of Lord Stark's brothers-"

"One of whom is exiled at the Wall, wearing that hideous shade of black." Joffrey countered, "And the other two are dead. Killed by the Mad King. What good did your training do them, exactly?"

"Watch your mouth." Robb growled lowly.

Joffrey was unfazed. The same cocky grin was on his face as he turned back to Bran and Tommen, "In the south, men learn to fight." He gripped the blade at his own hip and drew it, "With live steel."

Tommen opened his mouth, "No we-" His mouth snapped shut when Joffrey gave him a piercing glare.

"So, Brandon Stark," Joffrey leveled his blade at the boy, "Have you used live steel yet?"

Bran gulped then shook his head.

Erza felt her hand drifting towards her own sword. And she wasn't alone. Jon's hand already gripped the hilt of his own blade. Robb was taking several steps towards Bran. But those steps drew the attention of the Hound, who march forward to stand beside Prince Joffrey. The hesitance Robb showed when he saw the scarred man made the Hound grin, displaying a gruesome smile that made Erza's skin crawl.

"So you are just pretending to use a sword then?" Joffrey asked.

"No!" Bran replied, "Ser Rodrik doesn't believe I'm ready to use live steel."

"Then obviously he is not training you very well. I used live steel when I was your age."

"Joffrey-" Tommen was silence by another harsh glare.

"Dog, give Brandon Stark a sword from the rack." Joffrey ordered.

"Now just a damn moment!" Ser Rodrik bellowed, his face now red with fury, "No one here touches those blades without my say so."

Joffrey looked and Ser Rodrik and smirked, "Quite right. The master at arms has control of all weapons in the castle. So… as your crown prince, I demand that you provide Bran a real sword." He grinned at Bran, "I want to test him myself."

"I will do no such thing!" Ser Rodrik snapped.

Joffrey grin ran away from his face, "You dare defy your prince?" He snapped his fingers at the Hound, "Dog!"

The massive man started towards Ser Rodrik. Robb moved to get in the way, but one glare by the Hound made him pause. The Hound's hand reached for his sword. And just as he was about to draw his blade, Erza stepped forward, putting herself between Ser Rodrik, Bran, and the Prince.

"Make another move. And it may be the last time you'll be able to move properly again." Erza warned as her hand rested on the hilt of her own sword.

The Hound grinned at her. But Erza did not look away. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and readied her muscles. The two warriors stared at each other. Neither giving ground. The Hound's grin fell away and he raised his chin at her.

"You're not a mere wench then eh?" He rumbled.

"Dog!" Joffrey now screeched, "I commanded you to-"

"I know you little shit. I know." The Hound muttered under his breath so that the Prince could not hear him. He rolled his eyes and took another step towards Bran and Ser Rodrik. "Yes your Grace. It will be done." He said loudly this time.

In the blink of an eye, Erza's sword was out of its sheath and leveled it at the Hound's chest. The Hound paused, his one good eye staring at the tip of the blade.

"Last warning." Erza snarled.

The Hound slowly began to unsheath his own blade. Erza tightened the grip on her sword. This man was not deterred. Her penetrating glare did not make him hesitate or back down. Instead, it made the Hound curious about her. She could see that he was studying her stance. Observing her posture, the way she held her sword. He was calculating how likely it would be that he would win this battle. Because now, after seeing how quickly Erza produced her blade, after seeing how expertly she held her sword, the Hound was not certain of the outcome. Nevertheless, his prince gave him an order. He wanted the fat master at arms dealt with for defying him. And much to the Hound's chagrin, he had to execute those orders.

The pair braced themselves for combat. Erza could see Jon readying to jump in if needed. Not a noise was made in the yard. The sounds of the market outside of Winterfell's walls was all that could be heard.

Slow clapping broke the silence.

"Riveting." The amused voice of Tyrion Lannister said. The Hound turned his head to see the littlest Lannister calmly strutting towards the tense group, "Absolutely riveting. So much intensity." He smirked, "One would think that this would be an actual fair fight." He glanced at Erza. Right away, Erza knew that Tyrion Lannister knew who would win. And he had been betting on her. The imp glanced hard at his nephew.

"My dearest nephew!"

He waddled over to Joffrey. The young prince could only stare stunned as Uncle patted The Hound on the arm and moved towards him. Once the Imp was past the Hound, the massive man sheathed his sword. Erza released the breath she had been holding. Jon noticeably relaxed and Robb moved towards Bran and Tommen.

Tyrion stood in front of Joffrey. The prince glowered down at him.

"What do you want im-"

Erza's eyes widened as Tyrion reached up and slapped his nephew hard on the cheek.

"Say one more word, and I will hit you again." Tyrion warned.

"I'm telling mother!"

Tyrion slapped him on the other cheek. Erza could see some tears beginning to form in Joffrey's eyes. He fought them back though and instead stared red faced at the Tyrion Lannister.

"How much of a fool are you?" Tyrion scolded, "Do you want to start a war between your family and the Stark's? Over what? A Master at Arms rightly denying your request to give _his_ pupil live steel?" Tyrion shook his head, "Did it ever occur to you that the good Ser was following Lord Stark's orders?"

"M-mother-"

"Will do nothing. Because unlike you, she seems to have some intelligence. A trait that clearly was not passed down to the next generation." Tyrion berated, "Ser Clegane!"

"My Lord?"

"Please escort the Prince to his chambers. Perhaps a nap would do him some good. He does appear rather grouchy. And in my experience, a good nap does wonders for the mood of a man."

"Yes, my Lord." The Hound swiftly grabbed Joffrey's upper arm and began to drag him away from the yard.

"But I'm not tired!" Joffrey bellowed as he struggled against the Hound's iron grip.

Once, the Prince was out of earshot, Tyrion sighed and turned to Erza, Robb, Jon, and Ser Rodrik.

"I apologize on behalf of my nephew." Tyrion said, "Sometimes, when the children are behaving badly, they need to simply be put to bed."

"Or given a swift kick in the ass." Jon muttered.

Erza snorted then sighed, letting all of the tension out of her body.

"Thank you, Lord Tyrion." Robb finally said. Though Erza could see that it was somewhat reluctant.

"It was my pleasure." Tyrion smirked before looking at Erza, "So, not only are you a ravishing woman but you also know your way around weapons?"

Erza arched an eyebrow, "And why shouldn't I?"

"Well it certainly isn't the norm to see a woman in full battle armor." Tyrion glanced at her skirt, "Even less so with full battle armor and a lovely blue skirt? Is it silk?"

"No cotton." Erza replied.

"Ah! The fabric of the commonfolk." Tyrion nodded, "So you are not noble nor are you a knight? So, what are you then?"

"A bodyguard." Jon said, as he intervened into the conversation. Erza gave shot him a silent thank you. And he replied with a slight nod of his head.

Tyrion arched an eyebrow, "Doesn't Lord Stark have knights, or dare I say, great masters at arms to act as a bodyguard for his children?"

"I doubt even one of them could best Erza in combat." Robb boasted, "She's been teaching me and Jon. Well, mostly Jon."

"Really!?" Tyrion seemed impressed, "Then she would have had no trouble fending off Ser Clegane now would she?"

"She would beat him like a drum." Robb replied with a grin. Jon glared over at his brother but the Stark grin only grew wider, "I'd say it'd only take a minute."

"A minute?" Tyrion nodded his head, "Most impressive indeed. Such a feat has not yet been seen. I believe that there are only five who could best Ser Clegane in combat. One of which is his elder brother." He pursed his lips, "But the other four are not mere brutes like the Mountain. Nevertheless, if your claims are true then I would greatly enjoy seeing Miss Erza's skills put into action." He bowed to the Starks, "Now then, if you'll excuse me. I was busy experimenting with some Northern girls yesterday when my brother so rudely interrupted. You all have a lovely day."

Erza eyed Tyrion as he waddled away, a pleasant smile on his large face. When he was gone, Jon glared at Robb.

"What are you doing?"

"What?" Robb replied, "It's not like I was lying." He rolled his shoulders then sighed, "Well, Father wanted to speak with me this morning. I suppose it's about time and went and spoke to him. I believe it was something about a hunt with King Robert."

"A hunt with the King?" Erza asked.

"Aye." Jon replied, "King Robert is an avid hunter. From what I hear, he enjoys killing things."

Erza frowned, "That's not exactly a good hobby."

Jon shrugged, "To each their own. That is my opinion on it. It is not like he's harming anybody by enjoying a good hunt"

He rubbed his hands together. The air was getting colder by the day. At this point, he was considering whether it would be worth grabbing a pair of gloves or not. Jon glanced at Erza, her attention once again on Bran and Tommen. She could see her shaking her head ever so slightly as Bran tripped over his own two feet.

"Erza?"

"Yes?"

Jon gulped then shifted his weight, "Well… I have a feeling that my father will ask me to join him and Robb on the hunt. One last time to be together before I-" he could feel Erza's hard stare on him. And it only made him feel more anxious. Jon didn't know why he was feeling like this. The sudden pounding in his chest whenever Erza spoke to him. The way his cheeks flared up when she smirked and laughed. He wished he still had his beard. It would be easier for him to hide his embarrassment behind a thick beard. "Before I take the black."

"And?" Erza asked.

"Well, I'm sure Jory wouldn't mind watching the little ones for a day or two."

Erza glanced at Jon then smiled, "You want me to go hunting with you?"

Jon cleared his throat, "Well.. um… hunting with Lord Stark and King Robert. Maybe by showing the King your skills the Hound would be less likely to bother you?"

Erza chuckled, "If Lord Stark wants me to come along then I'd be happy to." She sighed, "It might do some good to get out the castle for a change."

Bran fell backwards and Tommen bashed him in the chest with his sword. Bran yelped in pain before scrambling to his feet and tackling the young Baratheon.

"Gods dammit! That's not how knights fight!" Ser Rodrik boomed.

Erza brushed Jon's shoulder, "Go see your father." She began to walk towards Bran, "I think Bran would benefit from a short lesson."

"Try not to beat him up to much." Jon warned with a smile, "Lady Catelyn wouldn't appreciate him being black and blue for a week."

"I'll be gentle." Erza grinned before helping Bran to his feet and instructing both Tommen and Bran to stand in front of her. All the while, Ser Rodrik watched and observed. Curious to see how the red haired woman of Winterfell conducted her own training.

Jon watched for a brief moment as Erza gave the two boys a firm talking to about what a sword was and why it should be respected. Then he smiled, turned on his heel and marched towards the castle doors. He rubbed his face as he attempted to fight off the biting cold wind that came sweeping down from the Far North. Already, he could see his breath misting in front of his face and it wasn't even midday yet. Jon glanced back at the yard and saw Erza going through a basic drill with Tommen and Bran, both boys grinning in delight as Erza gently instructed them.

Another frozen breeze whipped around Jon and he shuddered. He may not remember the last one, but he knew in his bones that this winter he would remember for the rest of his life. He pushed the doors to Winterfell open and entered the warmth of the castle that would soon no longer be his home.

 **And chapter! GOD I LOVE WRITING THIS SMALL SCENES! Little intimate moments between characters are just too much fun! Seeing how Tyrion analyzes everything, just getting into his head in general is a real treat! And the moments between Jon and Erza are just too much fun to put togther! Don't worry though everyong, we will be getting to the heavy stuff eventually, I promise. It's just taking a lot more set up than I thought to get there.**

 **Originally, I did plan for this chapter to be much longer. Like taking us up to a certain even longer (You GOT fans know what I'm talking about). But I worry about making super long chapters like that. I'm not sure how well I'd put it together. Regardless, the next Erza chapter will be an interesting one because it will be one of the first ones I do that will be a bit of a diversion from Canon. You'll see what I mean when I get it posted.**

 **Also, I do want to update you guys on the progress of these character's story arcs. I can tell you all right now, Erza is hands down the most planned out story I have right now. I know exactly what is going to happen to her up to Season 7 of GOT. Got it written down and everything. Levy and Gray are my next best planned out followed by Wendy and Lucy. Natsu has been tricky for me, I'm really not sure why. Also, Cana will be introduced shortly. I know how I'm putting her in the story and it's going to be a fun introduction! Last but not least, Mira has been extremely difficult to put in. I've been bouncing around a few ideas but I'm not a hundred and ten percent sure on what to do yet. Idk, I'll figure something out. Anyways, Happy Easter everybody! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you guys think. And as always, have a nice day!**


	29. Levy VI

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Levy

The gentle swaying of the ship beneath her awoke Levy. Like a gentle nudge from a friend. It's tender rocking allowed her body to ease into alertness. Her heavy brown eyes cracked open. Bright sunlight was streaming through the window in the cabin. It nearly blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a deep breath before opening them again. The ship rocked gently again. Then Levy heard a small snort across the room.

She sucked in a breath and held it. Across the room, sat that woman, sleeping fitfully in a wooden chair. The other Greyjoy. Levy felt every muscle in her body grow tense. Captain Yara may be helping her now, but Euron helped her at first as well. As far as Levy was concerned, the Greyjoy's were no more than brigands. Untrustworthy pirates that she had to be extremely cautious around. Since the day she first awoke, she had hardly spoken a word to Yara Greyjoy. The captain would chat with her, harshly sometimes, as she tried to gain information on The Crow's Eye. But despite her harsh demeanor, Yara would always make sure that Levy was comfortable. She would have the ship's equivalent of a doctor come in every morning and night to make sure Levy was healing properly. She made sure Levy ate, that she drank the water given to her. For the first time in months, despite still being in the company of a Greyjoy, Levy felt somewhat healthy.

Her back still ached. The wounds back there would likely never heal properly. They would forever be scars for her. Hideous, red, swollen lines of skin across her shoulder blades and spine. A reminder of the cruelty of this world. A reminder of the cruelty of Greyjoys.

Yara snorted again then jerked awake. She blearily blinked the sleep from her eyes then yawned. Her arms stretched high over her head as she took a long breath then yawned again.

"Damn." She muttered before glancing over at Levy, "You know. I'm actually really looking forward to sleeping in a bed again." She laughed then eyed the still silent, wary Levy, "You still not saying a damn word are you?"

Levy did not reply. Yara just shrugged.

"Alright, your choice." She leaned back in her chair then looked out the window, "Almost noon. Should be home soon." She looked back at Levy, "When we arrive at Pyke, you're gonna come with me up to the castle."

Levy gulped. Yara could see the fear in her eyes. And while it was good for common folk to fear the Iron born, it was not good when information was needed. If the girl was right, then Euron Greyjoy and his crew of mutes were prowling the waters not far from Westeros once again. That was enough to put the fear of god into any reaver, even Yara. The Crow's Eye was a legend, a near mythic figure to the Ironborn who were not alive when he resided on Pyke. The example of a ruthless reaver who stopped at nothing until his goals were accomplished. The perfect ironborn. Take what you want, give nothing back. If it wasn't for his insanity, Euron may very well have become the Captain every Ironborn would want to sail with. Instead, he was name only mentioned in the quiet of the night. When fear was prevalent, and the sound of silence filled the air. He was the subject of terrors, ghost stories, and horrors. The last thing Yara wanted was a run in with her Uncle. And she certainly did not want him coming anywhere near Pyke.

Yara leaned forward. She looked Levy directly in the eye.

"You will talk to my father." She said sternly, "This is no longer a matter of being afraid of me, or any other reaver. This is a matter of protecting my crew and protecting my home. Euron is…" She paused, "Well, I suppose you are more aware of what he is than I am. And once my father knows his whereabouts, the entire damn fleet will be out hunting for him." Yara glanced out the window, "He'll have to crawl back to whatever fucking hole he came out of. But that only happens, if you explain everything to my father. Understand?"

Levy remained silent. How was she to know that Yara's father was not just like Euron? A man who ruled over a land of pirates had to be just as ruthless and cruel. Just as bloodthirsty and mad. How could she possibly be able to be around such a person. Let alone talk to him? Her eyes stared upward at the deck of the ship. Hadn't she suffered enough? Why couldn't she just wake up from this nightmare? Every time she closed her eyes she imagnined she would see her house around her when she opened them again. Her towers of books, her cozy little bed. Her guildmates all huddled around her, bright smiles of their faces.

She wondered where they all were now? Were they still in Fiore? Were they transported here with her? Or were they in another world entirely? Was Erza scouring Earthland with Natsu, Gajeel, and the others for her? Were Jet and Droy taking every obscure request possible in hopes of finding her safe and sound somewhere in Fiore? Or were her friends in just a precarious situation as she was? Levy gulped at the thought of Erza bound in chains. Powerless and helpless in this vicious world. She trembled at the idea of Natsu being caged. Lucy being bound and broken. Gray being frozen without his ice magic. Cana dying in an alley somewhere, unable to use her cards to defend herself. Mira being taken advantage by another group of violent raiders. Wendy scared and alone in a world she doesn't know.

Tears began to bubble in Levy's eyes. They slowly ran down her cheeks. Her lips quivered as more horrible thoughts plagued her mind. The worst one being, what if they all stopped looking for me?

"Hey?" Yara's strong voice broke through Levy's mind, "Are you alright?"

Levy grit her teeth and closed her eyes.

"A lot on your mind eh?"

For the first time today, Levy reacted. She subtly nodded her head.

Yara nodded, "Aye. That can cause a lot of problems." She stood, moved to Levy's side, and knelt down beside her, "Look, I don't know how you ended up on the Silence. I don't know what your life may have been like. I don't know any of that. All I know is your name. I don't know what kind of person you are or were before Euron got his hands on you. But know this," Yara leaned close, "I'm placing my trust in you now. I have my father's ear but he is very wary when it comes to news about my Uncle. He wants proof. And you are that proof. So by the drowned god please, just speak to him when we arrive."

A fist hammered against the cabin door. Yara closed her eyes and snarled.

"God dammit! I told you lot not to wake me until we arrived!"

"Well we're here aren't we?" Sassed Qarl the maid from the other side.

Yara's eyes widened, "Already?" She jumped to her feet and marched over to the door. Yara threw her door open and rushed out onto the main deck. She forgot to shut the door behind her.

Levy could hear the sound of seagulls cawing around the ship. The gentle crashing of waves against a coast. The harsh cold wind of the sea whipping around the ship's sail. Barrock barking out orders as lines and cords of rope were hefted and tossed by the men of the Black Wind. Then Levy heard a horn blast. She jolted upright, frightened by the sudden blaring sound. Yara's voice then roared to life, filled with curses and jokes as she ordered her men to bring the ship around the rocks and into the harbor at Lordsport.

 _I thought we were going to Pyke?_ Levy thought.

Fear welled up in her again. Was she lied to? Did Yara have sinister intentions after all. Levy grit her teeth and swung her legs out from the sheets. Her muscles had severely atrophied. She looked thinner than a reed. And every move made her joints pop and ache. But Levy couldn't just stay in this bed. Not if she was in danger again.

She put her weight on her feet for the first time in weeks. It felt like she was stepping on pins and needles. Levy stumbled and nearly toppled over when she stood. Her head swan and the world spun, causing her to clutch the wall near her. She took a shuddering breath and limped towards the door. Sweat beaded down her brow.

 _If I can't even walk? How can I escape?_ Levy thought.

She gripped the doorframe and pulled herself through. Outside was a scene she did not expect.

A series of stone spires rose high into the sky in front of her. Each spire covered in a thin film of green lichen. Each spire was jagged. Forged by centuries of water eroding the land away. Small, wooden rope bridges connected each island of rock. And atop the center island stood a castle the likes of which Levy had never seen before.

It was made of the same stone as the island it sat upon. A dark, grey stone that looked both mournful and imposing. High walls guarded the lone entry into the castle. A solitary stone bridge that connected the castle to the main island stood strong and proud against the vicious wind. Levy felt her jaw drop at the sight.

"Amazing isn't it?" Yara shouted over the sounds of the crew and the crashing of waves.

Levy turned to see the Greyjoy captain grinning ear to ear, "I-it is." Levy replied, her voice still hoarse.

Yara's grin only widened, "You should see Harlaw then." She spun the wheel so that the Black Wind could pass around the rocky islands and approach a small port village that was now coming into view, "It's a lot less dreary than this place. But, this is home. As bleak and hard as it is, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Levy continued to stare awestruck as the Black Wind docked. Men all around her flung ropes over the sides and jumped down onto the wooden dock. Each one doing their task in order to make sure the ship was tied down properly. Once that was done, Yara moved down from the helm and up to Levy's side.

"Alright, here we are." She glanced over at Barrock, who was still at the helm overseeing the last stages of their landing, "Barrock! Keep an eye on my ship!"

The large man gave her a silent nod.

Yara nodded and looked back at Levy, "Well, time to go see my father."

Levy gulped and looked down at the rags she now wore. They were not torn up like her old orange dress was. But they were still not a pretty sight. And they itched like hell. She found herself constantly scratching her arms despite her injuries.

Yara started to march down the gangplank. Halfway down she stopped and looked back at a hesitant Levy.

"Well come along already. We ain't got all day." She continued to march down onto the dock, "Even the Lord Reaper of the Iron Islands sleeps."

….

The castle was even more massive up close. The entire stone fortress dominated the main island inlet at the end of the stone bridge. Great iron doors barred entry into the home of the Greyjoy's. And standing guard at the front, were two men wearing black armor with a yellow kraken emblazoned on their breasts. As soon as they say Yara approaching, both men stiffened.

"Hello boys." Yara said with a smirk as she drew up to the doors with Levy in tow, "How's the house?"

The guards gave each other a sidelong glance before one finally replied.

"Quiet, Captain Greyjoy." He replied softly, "Your father has been keeping himself isolated as of late."

Yara cocked an eyebrow, "Has he now? Well, he can't stay away from me." She marched up to the iron doors and shoved them open.

In Levy's opinion, the inside of the castle perfectly represented who the Ironborn were. The furniture was made of driftwood, iron, or rock. Only a few cushions were seen in the dim, smoky great hall. Pale light shined in from the outside. A large fire burned fiercely in a fireplace at the end of the hall. In front of the fire, was a large black stone chair carved in the shape of a massive kraken. The shine was so brilliant that Levy could see the fire's flames reflected in the chair. Upon that throne, sat an old man.

He was balding on top. Thin, stringy, gray hair cascaded down from his temples to his shoulders. A hard, weather beaten face filled with wrinkles and scars stared down at Yara and Levy as the two stepped into the great hall, his gaunt face grew tighter and his dark eyes narrowed.

Yara opened her mouth to speak, but the Lord Reaper's voice boomed out from his gaunt frame.

"From what I understand," Yara stopped midway to the throne. Levy remained a step behind her. Her head bowed as she tried to hide from the man's penetrating gaze, "You're voyage was fruitless."

Yara grit her teeth and Levy saw her clench her fists. She then relaxed and smiled.

"Mostly," Yara admitted, "But not entirely, Lord Balon." She grabbed Levy by the arm and jerked her forward. The blue haired girl stumbled and yelped as her feet and legs screamed at her.

Levy glanced up at Lord Balon Greyjoy. Despite how gaunt the man was, he was one of the most intimidating figures she had ever seen. His dark eyes seemed to stare right through her. Judging her every thought and breath. It disturbingly reminded her of Euron. How his gaze penetrated right through her being. How he seemed to stare right into her soul and know exactly what she was thinking. The feeling made goosebumps form on her skin and she had to avert her eyes down in order to prevent herself from trembling.

"What is this stripling?" Balon asked, his tone harsh, "Are you taking on salt wives now?" He gave a small, unamused cackle, "It won't do you much good."

"Half a mind to do that." Yara replied, "But… Levy here," She clapped a hand on Levy's shoulder. Levy winced but Yara paid her no mind, "Has important information for us."

"Information?" Balon grunted, "On what? What could I possibly want to know about what lies in the Sunset sea?" Yara opened her mouth but once again, he father cut her off, "You should have raided the coasts. Gone down close to Lannisport like I told you to do. Your men would've returned richer. The Ironborn would be feared down south once again. And you would not seem like such a bloody disappointment."

Yara shifted her jaw, "Disappointment is it?" She growled, "I'll have you know-"

"I have information about Euron Greyjoy." Levy blurted out.

Yara whipped her head over to Levy. The petite girl kept her head bowed. Balon remained eerily silent. SHe could hear his fingernails tapping against the arms of his throne. They echoed off the cavernous walls of the great hall. A loud, tap, tap, tap, that incessantly banged in her eardrums. She began to shake. It sounded too much like the bars of her cell on the Silence.

"What about the Crow's Eye?" Balon finally asked.

Levy gulped, "I um-"

"Look me in the eye when you are speaking to me girl!" Balon barked.

Levy winced and raised her head. Balon was staring down at her, his gaze even more focused, more intense. She felt like if she said one word he did not like, he would have her killed. Already, her stomach was churning and she could feel some adrenaline pumping through her veins. Then she felt Yara reassuringly rub her shoulder. As if she sensed that Levy was struggling. Levy let out a breath.

"His location. His plans." Levy stammered before taking another deep breath, "Numbers of his crew. His possessions. Mannerisms, intentions, conquests." She looked Lord Balon in the eye, a sudden fire burned inside of her, "Everything you ever want to know about that monster."

Balon pursed his lips and folded his hands in front of his face. He was clearly thinking hard. Determining whether Levy was speaking the truth or lying to his face.

"How do I know you speak truthfully?" He asked. He glanced at Yara, "How do I know you haven't fooled my daughter just so you may live?"

Levy gulped and glanced at Yara. Yara nodded at her. Levy turned around and let her top fall to her waist. She could feel her cheeks heat up as Yara stared at her before she looked back at her father.

"Cat o nine tails." Yara said.

"I'm well aware what those scars are from." Balon stated, "Not many of those are used anymore. Only the Masters from Essos possess those."

"And she was nowhere near a ship from Essos." Yara replied, "I was tracking a merchant vessel out of Seagard when we were hit by a violent storm. One of the worst I've ever seen. You can ask my first mate about that one. When the storm broke, we had lost sight of the merchant vessel."

"And found this girl instead?" Balon asked.

Yara nodded, "Aye. She was bobbing in the water like a float at the end of a line. When I pulled her onto my ship, she claimed she had escaped the Silence. Upon hearing that, I immediately turned course back to Pyke." Yara swallowed hard, "I'd rather not cross the Crow's Eye without some help by my side."

Balon did not reply. Instead he took a long breath. Stared at Levy a while longer before sighing and rising to his feet. Despite his thin frame, Levy saw strength in his movements. He strode towards her like a captain aboard his ship. Strength, confidence, and most of all, absolute power seemed to cling to him as he hovered over Levy. But Levy did not break her stare with the man. Despite her fear, her trembling fingertips and churning stomach, she kept her eyes locked with the Lord of the Iron Island's.

Lord Balon turned to Yara.

"What do you plan on doing with her?"

"After she tells us what she knows?" Yara furrowed her brow, "I haven't thought that far ahead actually."

Balon nodded, "Perhaps she'd make a good servant here in the castle. Maybe give her to one of the up and coming captains as her reward."

"I BELONG TO NO ONE!" Levy screamed, "Euron Greyjoy tried to own me, I slashed his ribs for it." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Yara beginning to smile, "I control my own destiny."

"Do you now!" Balon growled back, "And what would you do about it?"

Levy opened her mouth to speak but froze. She realized now that this man was just as cruel as Euron Greyjoy. But he was not insane like the Crow's Eye. He was calculating. Every word she spoke told him more about who she was. Every action and reaction told him what she was worth to the Iron Borne. Levy now realized that this was a culture without sympathy and remorse. Strength was all that mattered. The Iron Price was all that mattered to these people. If she wanted to survive, if she wanted to get home, she'd have to go against everything she was. She couldn't be quiet. She couldn't be meek. She couldn't be a bookworm and read everything in sight. She had to be a fighter now. Levy clenched her trembling fists and fought back fear filled tears.

"Fight you with everything I've got." Levy growled back, "I'd fight the entire world if it meant my freedom and a chance to return to my family."

Yara's eyes widened and her grin grew wider until she was struggling to hold back some elated chuckles.

Balon glanced at his daughter, "It seems you caught a special stripling here."

"It appears so." Yara laughed, "So you want to fight eh?" Levy looked at Yara, "You want to fight for your freedom? To fight for your way home? You want to take what is rightfully yours?"

Levy clenched her jaw. She had to go with this charade. It was the only way to survive this. Her only way of even having a chance to find her way home.

"I want to fight, so I can never be harmed or taken again. I want to fight, so I can find Euron Greyjoy and deliver the payback he deserves." Memories of the silence played in her mind. The endless labor. The back breaking lashings. The sickening grin and smiling eye of Euron Greyjoy. The torture and the sickness. Levy knuckles began to turn white, "And you won't stop me."

Yara grinned and wrapped an arm around Levy.

"Lord Balon, I claim Miss Levy as a part of my crew."

Levy blinked. The gravity of what just happened hit her like a freight train. "Eh?"

Balon glowered at Yara. Instantly, Levy knew that he did not approve of Yara's decision. Levy could feel a pit forming in her stomach. Was the Lord of the Iron Islands going to deny the Captain of the Black Wind? Was she doomed from the very start of this conversation?

"Are you certain of this?" Balon asked.

"Damn certain." Yara looked at Levy then back at her father, "I'll make an Ironborn outta her. Just watch."

Balon nodded, "Very well then." He motioned to a pair of chairs near his throne, "Come and sit. We have much to discuss."

 **And chapter! So… Levy and Yara appear to be teaming up. Levy for survival's sake, and Yara because Yara likes bucking the rules. Those two are going to be an interesting pair to write about. They're certainly going to have some adventures that's for sure. Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	30. Margaery I Cana I

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Margaery; Cana

Margaery

Very few places in Westeros could compare to the beauty of Highgarden during the peak of summer. The trees were in full bloom. Each one budding with flowers and fruits as large as a man's face. The rivers and lakes surrounding the magnificent seat of House Tyrell were crystal clear. They shimmered in the summer sun and provided the perfect reprieve from the warm southern heat. Around the great castle, sat a small village that helped provide the basic necessities for the magnificent fortress. Cutting through the fields, leading right up to the castle gate, was possibly the most important road in all of the Seven Kingdoms, the Rose Road. The road the fed all seven kingdoms.

On this road a troop of riders trotted up towards the castle gates. Two riders clutched green banners with yellow roses emblazoned on them. Two more riders were knights in shimerring steel armor, riding beside a gilded carriage. It was not as grand as the Queen's wheelhouse, but it was still a sight to behold. As it passed through the small village, the smallfolk turned to look and small. Several even waved at the young woman looking out at them from inside her carriage.

The woman was Margaery Tyrell, the fourth child and only daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell. The most beautiful young maiden in the Seven Kingdoms according to those who held an opinion about such things. As the carriage passed through the village, she flashed each person in the village a brillant smile before regally waving at them. She even giggled at the sight of several children playing in the streets out in front of the castle.

"Such a lovely day isn't dear?" Asked an eldery woman that sat beside her in the carriage.

Margaery brushed some her brown hair away from her face, "Indeed Grandmother. One could hardly ask for a more pleasant summer day."

The oldest Tyrell, Olenna, merely nodded, "Yes. Cherish them while you can child. For in all things remember, the Stark's are right at least once in a while."

Margaery chuckled, "For winter is coming." She said with a grin as she recalled the words of the great Northern house that ruled so far away from here.

Olenna nodded in approval.

Trumpets sounded. The gates to Highgarden swung open. Waiting for the carriage to arrive were a pair of handmaidens, some guards, and a young, dashing man wearing a doublet bearing the same yellow flower as House Tyrell's banners. The carriage clattered to a halt and old Olenna harrumphed.

"Your brother is deciding to be flamboyant again today." She grumbled.

"Leave Loras be, grandmother." Margaery replied, "He's still young after all."

The door to the carriage opened and Margaery stepped out into the sun. Once her feet touched the ground one of the handmaidens rushed up to her.

Margaery cocked an eyebrow. This girl was new. Her father must have just brought her into his service. What was even more intriguing about this new servant was her hair. It was a shocking color. Her locks were as white as a fresh milk. The girl gave Margaery a bright smile before bowing to her.

"Welcome home, my lady." She then turned to Lady Olenna and repeated the gesture.

"Thank you." Margaery replied with a smile, "But pardon me, I don't seem to recall you being in my father's service?"

"Oh! Yes! Well-"

Olenna tapped Margaery on the hand, "Come along Margaery. These old bones are tired. Watching you go hawking for the past few days can make anyone as old as I am weary. We can learn about her while we rest in the solar."

"Of course Grandmother." Margaery hooked Olenna's arm in her own then waved for the new servant girl to follow them.

"How was hawking sister?" Loras asked as she strode by him.

"Wholly entertaining and relaxing. Really should come along sometime."

Loras shook his head, "I prefer something a little more active."

"Oh I'm sure." Olenna replied sarcastically causing Loras to arch an eyebrow and Margaery to suppress a smirk.

"I will see you at dinner tonight, Loras. I'm going to sit with Grandmother for a while longer."

Loras nodded then walked off allowing the two Tyrell woman to be alone with the new servant. Both Margaery and Olenna chattered about the castle, gossiped about news regarding their fellow ladies in the seven kingdoms, and even joked loudly about Margaery's father before the trio finally reached one of the castle's many open walled solars.

It was a magnificent room. The warm summer breeze came sweeping down from great walls and into the gardens which carried the sweet smell of roses into the room. Margaery helped her grandmother over to her favorite love seat before she then lounged back on a green sofa. The servant girl immediately ran over to the side and poured both women a glass of water from the small pitcher that was always kept there.

"Thank you, girl." Olenna said as she gently took her cup.

"Yes. Thank you." Margaery said as well.

"Margaery." Olenna began.

"Yes?"

"How goes your relationship with you know who." Olenna raised her eyebrows when Margaery set her glass down and stiffened her jaw.

"I'm certain he is interested in a marriage. However," Margaery pursed her lips, "I'm not sure if it's out of love or simply for status's sake."

" _That_ should be the least of your concerns darling." Olenna advised, "Love does not come instantly. It takes many years of trial and error to finally reach a state of true love. Just ask my husband. Or your father as well." Olenna chuckled, "Marrying Renly Baratheon would be a great boon not just for him, but for you as well. It puts you into royal lineage. You will be married to a handsome, charismatic young man who has the King's ear at all times."

"It would certainly be great for our House's growth." Margaery nodded.

"Correct my dear."

"Then if it must be done. I will do it."

Olenna smiled gently, "You are learning. Good. Remember Margaery, everything we do as Ladies of House Tyrell is to further our House's future. Sometimes we will be forced to do things we may not like. But if it will make our House stronger then we must do them." She sighed, "I just hope to the Seven your brother eventually figures that out as well."

"Well," Margaery smirked before taking a sip of water, "There is a reason why most people in the Seven Kingdoms believe House Tyrell is a matriarchy and not a patriarchy. The woman rule here."

"Absolutely." Olenna replied with a laugh. She then finished her glass and handed it to the servant girl, "Thank you. Um… May I ask your name girl? I don't seem to recall you serving us before."

The girl smiled and nodded, "Of course, my Lady. My name is Mirajane."

"Mirajane."

"Oh what a pretty name!" Margaery smiled.

"Thank you."

"And did my son bring you into the castle's services recently?" Olenna asked Mirajane.

The girl nodded, "He did my lady. I was working in one of the taverns in the village when he stopped in and saw how I was working. He said that a woman as skilled as I am at service should be serving nobility not drunkards."

"Ah." Olenna replied, "Mace and his ideas." She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"Can I ask you a question now, Mirajane?"

Mirajane looked over at Margaery.

"Your hair? Is that it's natural color?"

"Hm?" Mirajane blinked, "Oh yes! It is actually." She gave both Tyrell's a gentle, bright smile, "It's a family trait. My brother has the same colored hair."

"A family trait!" Margaery said, her eyes widening.

"How peculiar." Olenna muttered before sipping her water again.

"Do you take care of your brother now?" Margaery asked, "Are they living here in the castle with you?"

The bright smile faded ever so slightly. Enough for old Olenna to take notice. She seemed to lean forward ever so slightly as she waited to hear Mirajane's reply.

"I um… I was separated from my brother a few months back. That's how I ended up here." Mirajane confessed, "I've been trying to earn enough coin so that I can go out and possibly find him one day."

"Oh how awful!" Margaery gasped, "Well, do know that as long as you serve us here at Highgarden, we will help you in your search."

"Thank you!"

"And how did you come to be separated from your family, Miss Mirajane?" Olenna suddenly asked.

"Grandmother isn't that a little rude to ask?" Margaery questioned.

"Oh well..." Mirajane glanced down at her feet for a brief moment then sighed, "It's not an easy thing to talk about."

"Don't fret child." Olenna gently patted Mira on the hand, "I won't press any further." She then smacked her lips, "I dare say, Margaery, I think I'm craving strawberries. Are you?"

"They do sound very good, yes." Margaery grinned, "Mirajane could you please fetch us some strawberries?"

"Of course, my lady." Mirajane bowed, "I'll be right back." She rushed from the solar. Olenna's eyes followed her until she disappeared down the hall.

"What an interesting girl." Margaery said, "Beautiful too. Certainly for one of the small folk."

"Indeed." Olenna muttered, her eyes narrowing in thought, "You would think we would have heard of a family with hair as striking as that in our realm?"

Margaery arched an eyebrow, "Some things escape us from time to time."

"But never something that is living right under our noses." Olenna remarked. She leaned back in her seat and pursed her lips, "That girl is hiding something."

Margaery gave her puzzled look, "What makes you think that?"

Olenna sighed, "Margaery, dear you need to learn how to read people. Look at how hesitant she was to answer questions about herself. About her family even. Most small folk gush about their personal lives to nobility like us. Especially when it comes to their family. Yet this one remains eerily quiet and doesn't wish to talk about her family."

"Perhaps her past is rather traumatic?" Margaery suggested.

"More likely she is lying about something." Olenna countered. Margaery knit her brow, now both confused and hyper focused on her grandmother's words, "What she is lying about remains to be seen though."

Margaery nodded, "You gathered all of that from just our short conversation with her?"

"I did."

"How?"

Olenna gave her granddaughter a mischievous smile, "It is something you learn overtime dear. But something you must also pick up rather quickly." She glanced back down the hall and saw Mirajane returned with a bowl full of fresh strawberries, "Oh look! She returns quickly! My how I am craving strawberries."

….

Cana

The door to the Inn at the Crossroads opened then closed with a thud. Outside, rain poured in great sheets onto the riverlands. No doubt flooding the Trident that flowed several miles away from the Kingsroad. The newcomer to the inn sighed and removed his hood, revealing a middle aged man with a bearded chin, dark eyes, and long, thinning brown hair. He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back out of his eyes before moving further into the inn's common room.

It was a rowdy night tonight. Not much else for travelers to do this evening. There was no way anyone was going to move along the Kingsroad in this whether. He considered himself lucky to have even made it to this warm shelter. He had been afraid that he'd have to camp out along the road. No fire thanks to rain. Just a meager shelter and cold food.

 _I'm glad I rode the extra miles._ He thought as he caught the scent of fresh stew coming from the inn's kitchen.

The roar of several man cheering loudly came from across the common room. Curious, the traveler peered over and saw quite the sight to behold.

Sitting at a table, a massive grin plastered on her face, was a scantily clad brunette woman. Big brown eyes stared mischievously across the table at an enormous hulk of a man. Although the traveler found his eyes wandering to her chest, covered simply by what appeared to be an even skimpier type of small clothes.

 _Very nice._ The Traveler grinned when he finally reached the table.

Both the hulking man and the slim woman had mugs of beer in their hands. The traveler wandered over as he watched the pair suddenly slam their beers down their throats before grabbing another and doing the same.

 _A drinking game eh?_ He could see patrons around the pair calling out bets and cheering for the burly man to beat the woman, _I could get into this._

The pair downed a third drink then the brunette gave the massive man a smirk.

"Oh come on sweetheart. Is that all you can do?" The crowd around her began to hoot and holler as her massive opponent belched, "I've already drank two men under the table tonight. Are you gonna be the third?"

"*Burp* No." The man slurred back.

The brunette laughed again then slammed a fourth beer back. She let out a satisfied sigh before slamming her mug down on the table, leaning back in her chair, and pointing at her opponent.

"Your up bucko." She grinned as she crossed her legs.

The traveller glanced at her challenger. He was swaying in his seat already. The burly man raised his mug, brought it to his lips, then threw it back. He downed all of it, let out a loud sigh, then clumsily slammed the mug down on the table. Around him, men cheered and chanted his name. The challenger snorted, laughed, snorted again then slowly pitched to the side. Too drunk to stay upright.

"Oh come on man!"

"You must be joking!"

"Here's your damn gold coins!"

"HOW CAN SHE DRINK SO DAMN MUCH!"

"She's a fucking god!"

The traveller watched as the onlookers exchanged money with the ones who betted on the brunette. Meanwhile, the brunette seemed remarkably sober. She leaned back further in her seat until only the back two legs were touch the ground. She then held out her hand and a sack of coins was plopped into it.

"Thank you very much!" She said with a wide grin. She shook the bag and chuckled, "Oh how I love that sound!" She then eyed the crowd in the inn, "And I'm sure you all like that sound too. So, if ya ain't a lightweight, and if you can actually stand up to me." She tossed the bag onto the table, "You get to keep it."

No one moved to the challenger's seat. The traveller waited then sighed.

"I'll take that bet." He said before slipping his travel cloak off and taking a seat in the chair opposite the brunette.

"Oh it's about time someone grew a pair in this joint!" The brunette bellowed, "What's your name pal?"

"Bronn." He replied with a smirk.

"Bronn eh." The Brunnet smiled the held out her right hand, "Cana Alberona."

"Alberona huh?"

"Yup."

"Not from around her then, eh?"

"Not at all. Just hanging out here, drinking fools under the table, and making easy money while I'm at it."

Bronn shrugged, "Sounds like a good life to me."

"Oh it is." Cana nodded before grabbing one of the fresh mugs that was delivered to her table, "So, Bronny, you think you can outdrink me?"

Bronn didn't reply. He just looked her in the eye, grabbed his mug, put it to his lips, and drank it's contents dry. He then let out a satisfied sigh and set the mug gently down on the table.

"Good ale tonight lads!" He proclaimed, much to the delight of the men betting on him.

"Oh, a serious one!" Cana teased, "About time I got a challenge." She drank her mug, "And you are right, this is very good ale tonight. Better than last night that's for sure."

"Oh really?" Bronn took his second drink.

"Yup. Last night's tasted like dirty socks and feet." She shuddered, "I've had a lot of alcohol in my day but that was up there as one of the worst." She took her drink.

"Must've been a bad batch." Bronn mused as she tipped his third drink back.

"You could say that again." Cana drank her third drink, "I mean. How in the fuck do you mess up beer, I mean seriously?"

"You'd have to ask the inkeep that one." Bronn drank again, "Although, if you offend that batty old woman enough, she'd probably spit that damn sour leaf at you."

"HA!" Cana laughed loudly, "She's already done that twice. I'll have you know, I can be very good at offending people." And she took another drink. She let out a loud sigh then shakily set her mug down on the table, "I must say Bronny, you're giving me quite the challenge right now. This is the most anyone's ever gone with me."

"Is it now?" Bronn replied with a tilted grin, "Must have been a bunch of pussies you were going up against. Me, I know how to drink." He took another.

"Obviously!" Cana exclaimed. She took another drink. Her head started to feel weird. Like her brain was now swimming in water. Everything looked a little hazy. Was she starting to reach her limit?

 _Nah!_ She thought before noticing Bronn's eyes go from her face to her breasts.

"Hey! Bronny!" She snapped her fingers at him, "My eyes are up here."

"That's not the part I'm interested in." He replied as he took another drink.

Cana laughed, "Oh really. Your interested in everything else about me then?" She took another drink.

"Perhaps." Bronn downed another drink. He blinked. He was starting to feel dizzy now.

 _I'm not sure how long I can keep this up._ He thought.

"So Cana," Bronn started as the provacative brunette finished another drink, "I want to extend our bet."

"To what?" She slurred back. She was now wobbling in her seat.

"I win this game. I take not only that gold," He pointed at the sack on the table, "But I get to have you for a night."

Raucous laughter filled the inn around the pair. Every patron in the common room was now watching the game. Cheering on two titans of alcohol as they battled it out. And now, one was trying to raise the stakes.

Cana snorted, laughed, then snorted again, "Bold aren't ya?"

Bronn shrugged and took another drink. He then let out a quiet belch and shifted in his seat. He could do maybe one more drink. Perhaps two? Then he'd probably hit the floor. His eyes darted over to the gold at the center of the table. Maybe he could last three more drinks?

Cana tilted to and fro in her seat, "Alright Bronny. But if I win… I um… I get your horse." She slurred.

Bronn raised his eyebrows, "My horse?"

"Mhmm. You had to get here somehow right? And I eventually wanna get out of here. In order to do that, I need a horse." Cana noted before downing another drink.

"Alright." Bronn gulped, "Deal." Both drunkenly shook each others hands. Bronn then grabbed another mug and threw it down the hatch.

Cana was now giggling uncontrollably. She leaned forward and struggled to grab her next mug. When she was finally able to get a grip on it she brought it to her lips and threw her head back.

With a loud crash, her chair fell backwards, taking her with it. The mug slipped out of her hands and clattered onto the wooden floor. The champion of the Inn at the Crossroads lay passed out drunk on the floor. Eyes spinning, drool coming from the corner of her mouth. Defeated.

The crowd roared and Bronn reached to grab the sack of coins. His hand missed and fell forward. His body then pitched over the table and he landed in a heap on the otherside. He raised his head up, then pumped a fist in victory.

"She's going to be riding something of mine!" He bellowed, "And it sure as shit ain't my horse!"

The crowd roared. Bronn felt his head spinning faster. Then he blacked out.

 **And chapter! Don't worry you guys, I didn't forget about them! I was just having a really tough time figuring out what time would be best to introduce Cana. And I was having an even more difficult time figuring out how to introduce Mirajane. If you read the original draft of this story, Mira isn't introduced until part 2, way after the events that are going on currently in this story. And yeah… that's too far away. I was really having a hard time going about on how to write her chapter, then I figured why not experiment and have her chapter appear from one of the GOT character's perspectives. I thought it turned out ok. Maybe I could do better. But it's a start. Don't worry, she will be getting her own chapters. This is just how I felt it worked best. As for Bronn out drinking Cana, you gotta remember she had just finished three of those contests already and even Cana has her limits. Her limits may be even more noticeable since she no longer has her magic (For now). Her story is gonna be a fun one. I can't wait to write about her shenanigans with Bronn. Anyways, let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	31. Erza X

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

"Do you remember the good old days, Ned?" King Robert asked as he leaned back in his horse.

The poor animal grunted as the massive man's weight shifted. Beside him rode Eddard Stark. The lord of winterfell looked like a physical specimen compared to his old friend. He rode his horse tall and proud. Never panting for breath and barely breaking a sweat. King Robert looked like he had just run a marathon. And they had only been riding for about an hour into the Wolfswood.

Behind the King and Lord Stark rode Robb Stark and Ser Barristan Selmy. Ser Barristan was an older man with. White hair crowned his head. But he rode his horse like a man twenty years younger. Lord Stark chattered with him loudly as Ser Barristan humbly told the young wolf stories of Robert's Rebellion and his many other feats. Many of which shocked even Erza. Apparently, Ser Barristan had once taken on an entire castle in order to rescue King Aerys. Robb was blustering about how great a warrior the Knight was for doing such a thing. Ser Barristan merely replied, "It was easy if you knew what shadow to hide in." And he dropped the matter at that.

A few paces behind Ser Barristan and Robb were a pair of Lannister soldiers and King Robert's squire, an athletic young man by the name of Lancel Lannister. He was the spitting image of Jaime Lannister in Erza's eyes. Yet somehow he seemed even more arrogant. Unless King Robert was chastising him, in which case, Lancel had no spine nor courage. Not once did he reply to the King's teases and threats. He just stayed silent, apologized, and poured the large man more wine when necessary.

And finally, behind a row of Winterfell guards, rode Jon Snow and Erza Scarlet. The pair volunteered to ride in the back. Erza chose it because she felt it gave her the best vantage point of the party. She could see behind her, in front of her, and all around her with ease. Jon chose to ride in the back, because Erza jerked him back there with her.

"Let your father and the King talk for now." Erza said when Jon protested being pulled to the back of the hunting party.

At the front of the party, Lord Stark arched an eyebrow, "Good old days?"

King Robert's laugh echoed loudly through the woods around them. He then clapped a meaty hand on Ned's shoulder.

"You know what I mean!" Robert chuckled, "The simpler times. When we just kids. None of this politics bullshit and damn spys. Just me, a hunt, a whore, and my hammer." Robert was grinning ear to ear, "You remember those days don't you you dour old man?"

"Dour old man?" Ned smirked, "If I'm old, then you are ancient, Robert Baratheon."

Lancel tensed at Ned's jest. But Robert just chortled heartily.

"Ah yes, back then men were men." Robert remincised before falling into another fit of laughter, "You remember Ned, don't you? You weren't a man until you fucked one girl from all seven kingdoms and the Riverlands. You and I called it 'making the eight'."

Ned shook his head and chuckled, "I don't recall such a rule."

"Oh fuck your piss poor memory!" Robert bellowed, "You need to come south with me! Perhaps the warmth will thaw your mind after years of living in this frozen land. And the food is so much better in King's Landing. I'm telling you right now, there are strawberries as big as your hand. They just burst in your mouth when you take a bite. And the melons," A mischievous gleam came over King Robert's face, "And you know what I mean by that Ned-"

"I'm a married man, Robert." Ned replied dutifully.

"So am I." Robert took a sip from his wineskin and tossed it back to Lancel, who fumbled with it before finally securing it on his horse, "But that hasn't stopped me, now has it?"

In the back, Erza glanced at Jon.

"The King appears to be a rather interesting person." She said quietly.

"To say the least." Jon replied.

"In the stories and history books I read, they always paint him as a great, tall warrior. A battle helm made of steel and antlers on his head and a massive warhammer as his weapon of choice." Erza winced as she heard the fat king fall into a fit of coughs before falling into more drunken laughter, "I doubt he could even lift a regular hammer now."

"Appearances can be deceiving." Jon remarked, "You're a perfect example of that."

"How so?" Erza asked, "Are you we still going on about this, because I'm a girl it's weird thing?"

"It's not ordinary." Jon said.

"What he means to say, is that your extraordinary!" Robb called back to the pair before laughing loudly, causing Jon's cheeks to burn and Erza purse her lips.

"Don't pay him any mind. Brothers tease brothers." Jon told Erza.

"Oh trust me. I'm well aware of the lengths siblings will go to get the other one all spun up." Erza nodded.

Jon raised an eyebrow, "You have siblings?"

Erza shook her head, "No. Not that I'm aware of at least. The closest people I have to family are my guildmates. And believe me, they just love to get under each other's skin."

The King's horse came to a sudden stop. Above them, the clear skies over the massive pines began to glow orange then turn purple. Stars began to twinkle in the sky as twilight set in on Westeros. King Robert grunted as he dismounted his exhausted horse.

"Right here should be good. What do you think Ned?"

"It's your decision, your grace." Ned replied.

"Shut up with that your grace shit." Robert ordered with a grin, "This is you and me reliving the days where titles didn't matter." He snapped his fingers at Lancel, "Boy! Get the King's and Lord Stark's tent set up now!"

Lancel jumped, nodded quickly, then dismounted his horse and began to unpack some of the camping equipment the party would need for the night.

"If we're supposed to be reliving those days, Robert, shouldn't we be sleeping under the stars?" Ned wondered aloud.

"Well, we have the titles now. Might as well take advantage of them while we can." Lancel cried out as he dropped several pots and pans, "GODS DAMMIT LANNISTER!" Robert scolded, his face turning bright red as he stared at the young blonde haired man, "It's just some fucking dishes. Can you not even do that properly?"

"Perhaps we can help him?" Erza suggested as she and Jon trotted up to where the party planned to camp.

"It'd be appreciated." Ned said calmly.

"Oh now look here!" Robert pointed at Lancel then at Erza, "The woman seems to know more about being a fucking man than you, Lannister!" Erza grit her teeth behind her lips. To her side, Jon steadied his horse and gave Erza a look that told her to stay calm. "Then again, she is a northern girl." Robert sat down in the grass and fallen leaves. In front of him, Ser Barristan was working on sparking a fire. Ned dismounted his horse and sat down beside his King, "Northern girls always seem to know things about the world." Robert said much more quietly than normal.

"Indeed they do." Ned replied.

"What do you mean by that, your grace." Erza asked as she helped Lancel unfold the tent.

Robert seemed lost in his own thoughts. He seemed to be staring into another time. And if Erza was hearing correctly, she heard him whisper a name under his breath.

"Lyanna."

There was pain in his eyes when he spoke that name. A wave of melancholy seemed to consume the normally jolly king. Erza deemed it best not to ask any further questions. Clearly that name held a very deep, personal meaning to the King. And unless he wanted to share it, then Erza was not going to ask him about the signifigance of the woman named Lyanna. Erza simply grabbed a bundle of stakes and continued her work. Meanwhile the King sat silently with Ned.

Ser Barristan eventually got a fire to spark. He gently cradles his hand around the little flame and gently blew on it until it consumed the stack of logs and sticks he had set up. A few feet away, Erza was helping Lancel with the tent while Jon unpacked the rest of the horses.

"See," Erza noted pulled one of the ropes for the tent then staked it into the ground, "It needs to be tight. Like this. That way, rain won't pool up on top."

"But it is not likely to rain, Miss Erza." Lancel responded.

"Do you want to take that chance with the king?" Erza asked. Lancel remained quiet. "That's what I thought."

By the time camp was set up, the sun was setting below the horizon. The sky was dim. The stars high above began to show, twinkling softly and growing brighter as the day faded away. The small hunting party sat around their campfire. Robert was talking loudly as usual, while Ser Barristan was focused on roasting several rabbits over the flames.

"Hahaha!" Robert guffawed as Ned chuckled as well, "Damn, those were the days Ned. How I loved my youth!" The King glanced over at Jon and Erza, "You two are damn lucky to have it. Makes life far more enjoyable."

Erza nodded, unsure how exactly to respond to the King. Meanwhile Jon just said a silent thanks.

"Oh for pity's sake." Robert bemoaned, "Has your sour demeanor rubbed off on your entire household, Ned?" He shook his head, "Come on you two, this is just a fucking hunt. Relax a little," He tossed a wineskin at Erza. The redhead snagged it out of the air and gave it a hesitant look, "Drink up lass. It's Dornish wine. I only drink the best."

Erza smiled then passed the skin over to Jon, "Thank you, your grace. But I don't drink."

"Hey, what'd I say about that your grace stuff." Robert wagged his finger at Erza before he let his arms fall to his lap again, "And who in their right mind doesn't drink."

"Me for one." Erza retorted. Beside her, Jon took a sip of the wine and nodded.

"It's very good, your grace."

"GODS DAMMIT I'M ROBERT, BOY! Only call me your grace in the fucking castle." Robert boomed. Jon's face paled for a moment. Then Robert busted out into drunken laughter again. He smacked Ned on the chest and pointed at Jon as he laughed, "I got him there, Ned."

"Yes you did." Ned said with a strained smile.

"And you, red head-"

"Erza." Erza interrupted.

"Erza, yes, take that wineskin from Ned's bastard already and have a drink. You can relax out here. I guarantee you, no harm will come to us. Not as long as old Barristan is here? Ain't that right, Barristan?"

"Absolutely your grace." The old knight replied softly as he turned the cooking spit. He poked the rabbits with a fork and nodded. The flesh was now nice a crispy. A good dinner for tonight, "Supper is ready."

"Finally!" Robert declared, "I'm starving."

"I'm not surprised." Ned smirked.

"You calling me fat, Ned?"

"Have you seen yourself of late?"

Robert eyed Ned. Then he doubled over laughing. He took a breath and grabbed a leg from the rabbit. His dark eyes wandered over to Erza again and he saw she was still sitting quietly beside Jon.

"Drink already dammit. Your king commands it." He said before taking a bite of his meal.

Jon leaned over and whispered in Erza's ear, "Might as well." He suggested.

Erza let out an exasperated sigh. She shook her head, put the skin to her lips, and took a quick gulp of the wine. Her eyes bulged as she felt the burning liquid run down her throat. It had a very sweet taste to it. It was almost overpowering. Erza quickly swallowed before her lungs were wracked with several coughs. Robert chuckled at the sight.

"Aye, your not a drinker at all are you?" Robert wiped some grease from his mouth, "So, Miss Erza. You're new to Ned's service aren't you?"

Erza coughed once more then nodded, "Aye, your grac-" She caught herself, "Robert." She finished.

King Robert smiled in approval, "How'd you come into my friend's service?"

"She rescued Arya from a pack of feral wolves." Ned explained for her.

"Did she now!" Robert looked wide eyed at Erza. He then bowed his head, "Mighty brave of you lass. And certainly a sign of a skilled fighter. Wolves are tricky business. I've had my run ins with those beasts during other hunts. You never want to be caught alone against them. It'll end badly."

"Thankfully, Jon, Robb, and Lord Stark weren't far away then." Erza said, "They made sure the wolves couldn't finish what they started. I just got in the way before they could reach Arya."

"And ever since you've been acting as a bodyguard for the Stark household?" Ser Barristan assumed.

"Aye, ser." Erza replied, "It's been… close to half a year now."

"Already?" Jon muttered in surprise.

"Indeed, time certainly flies." Ned nodded.

"So where are you from Erza Scarlet?" Robert asked, "Are you from this frozen hell hole as well?"

Erza shook her head, "No. I am not. I only arrived here recently."

"Really?" Robb Stark said in surprise, "Where are you from then, Erza?"

Both Jon and Ned looked nervously over at Erza. The red head simply took a breath and looked at Robb.

"The Jade Sea." She replied, "There is a small village there that I lived in. I was orphan. Eventually made my way here. Pretty unremarkable beyond that."

"The Jade Sea." Barristan said, "So the cities of Yi Ti then?"

Erza nodded without hesitation. This was part of the way she planned on keeping her otherworldy origins secret. Come up with a convincing enough lie, say it with enough confidence, and others will think it is true. That's what Maester Luwin told her. So far, that advice held true. "Aye. It was quiet life there. Very different from here."

"I don't doubt it." Barristan agreed.

"And how does a little orphan girl get to be as skilled a fighter as yourself." Robert asked, "And don't be humble with me," He cut Erza off before she could reply, "I saw how you carried yourself against the Hound the other day. You made that Dog think twice. Not many can do that."

Erza gave the king a small smile, "Actually, I'm mostly taught myself to fight. I had to in order to get by. Started off with sticks, then worked my way up to a real sword."

"Self taught!?" Barristan gasped, "Most impressive then."

Robert snapped the bone of his rabbit and quickly sucked the marrow out, "I agree. That is certainly an impressive feat." He tossed the bones into the fire, "And I do hope to see your skills put in action some day. Hopefully in a tourney and not an actual battle."

Erza bowed to the King, "Thank you for your words, Robert. And I agree. I would love to test the skills of other warriors here in Westeros."

"Careful now." Robb Stark warned her with a grin, "You may be good. But I don't think you could best Ser Barristan."

"She could and you know it." Jon defended.

Robb shrugged, "I'm just saying. Your great Erza, but Ser Barristan is legendary." The young Stark then let out a long yawn.

Ned yawned as well then rubbed his face, "I agree Robb. I'm weary as well. And the night grows late."

"Oh you all are acting like old men!" Robert cried.

"Perhaps we should rest in order to be fresh for our hunt tomorrow, your grace." Ser Barristan suggested.

King Robert eyed his captain of the Kingsguard then let out a defeated sigh, "Perhaps you're right. I'm not as young as I used to be." He rose to his feet stumbled then straightened upright, "And I'm drunk. So i'm going to need to sleep this off. Lancel, is my tent ready!"

"Yes, your grace!"

"Good. You actually managed to do something correct for a change." Robert turned to move to his tent. Before he left, he turned back to Ned and the others, "I wish you all a good night."

"You as well, Robert." Ned replied before rising to his feet and retiring to his own tent.

Robb and the other guards soon followed. Barristan sat and ate quietly for a few more minutes with Jon and Erza before he too decided to retire for the night. Once the Kingsguard fell asleep, Jon felt himself beginning to grow drowsy. But he fought it off and instead tapped Erza on the shoulder.

"Hey, I can take first watch." He said, "You go ahead and rest."

Erza shook her head, "I'm ok. Not really tired just yet." She continued to stare into the fire. Her mind drifting far away. King Robert's question about her home made all of her worries come back to the surface.

It had been almost half a year already. She had only managed to find Gray. And she was no closer to finding the others and getting home. In that same amount of time, there had been no contact from Fiore. Not that she was expecting there to be any, but she did hold out a small slice of hope for that.

 _I wonder if they're still searching for us back home?_ Erza wondered before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked, "You've barely touched your food."

"I'm um…" She was about to say she was fine. But instead, she let her rabbit fall to her side, "Actually Jon, I'm… I'm really anxious."

Jon narrowed his eyes, "About what?"

"My family." Erza replied, "Somehow it's been over five months and I have yet to find anyone other than Gray. And even that was by complete accident." She rubbed her forehead, "And despite all of my research about this world, I cannot find anything on how to get back to my own." Erza gulped. A pit began to form in her stomach as a new fear began to form in her mind, "Jon?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared I may be trapped here." She admitted, "Trapped with no way of finding my family. No way of ever seeing my home again." She tucked her knees into her chest, "I've been trapped like that before, Jon. I never wanted to experience it ever again. Fairy Tail, my family, they gave me freedom unlike anything else I had ever experienced before. And now, I'm stuck again. Only this time, instead of chains, I'm trapped by a magic I don't understand; in a world I never even knew existed until a few months ago."

To her surprise, Jon placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"You'll figure it out." Jon said quietly, "You always seem to figure stuff like this out."

Erza snorted, "You'd be surprised. Most of the time, it's my teammates who do the figuring out and I'm the heavy hitter who deals all the damage."

"That can't be true!" Jon exclaimed.

Erza nodded, "Usually, when a problem occurs on a job, someone like Lucy or Levy would be busy working out a solution while me, Natsu, and Gray would be busy trying to beat whatever monster or wizard we were fighting into submission." She began to laugh a little, "Usually we'd have won by the time Lucy and Levy finished their plan."

Jon laughed with her, "Sounds like a fun time."

"You have no idea."

"Well… give me an idea then." Jon replied.

"What? You want to know about my guild jobs?"

Jon shrugged, "That and your guildmates. You mention them, but you never really talk about them."

"Oh!" Erza blinked, "Well… where do I even start?"

"What kind of powers do your friends have?" Jon asked, "I mean, I know you have magic that allows you to summon weapons-"

"And armor." Erza quickly corrected.

"And armor." Jon nodded, "But what about the others? What can they do?"

Erza could see the curiosity growing in Jon's eyes. He was really the only one she could talk to about any of this. She couldn't talk much to Gray, mostly because the jailor limited the amount of time she could visit him in a single day. And her relationship with Lord Stark was still shaky at best (though she did her best to hide it with the King visiting Winterfell). She had found herself growing to enjoy Jon's company more and more. Not just in training, but elsewhere too. They would eat in the hall together, walk along Winterfell's walls, watch Bran and Rickon. Everywhere Erza went, Jon seemed to follow. And she didn't mind at all.

"Ok. So my friend's magics are… to be honest very diverse. Not everything is summoning magic." Erza noted. Jon nodded, "Ok. Let's start with Natsu. He's without a doubt the most impulsive of my team. A bit simple minded at times, but good at heart. And he uses Fire Dragon Slayer magic."

Jon's eyes widened, "Fire Dragon Slayer Magic?"

"Aye. Think of it as a stronger kind of fire magic. And Dragon Slayer magic is the only magic that can take down a dragon. It also allows him to consume that element, which gives him even more power."

Jon felt his jaw drop, "That's unreal! How powerful is he?"

Erza pursed her lips, "He's strong. But he's also very raw. He still has a ways to go before he's ready for any of the jobs that I take on." Erza exhaled and decided to lean back on her elbows. Jon remained upright. "Next is Wendy. She's the youngest on my team. Our newest member too. She's also a dragon slayer."

"Another one? What element does she use then?"

"She's the Sky Dragon Slayer, so wind magic." Erza explained in the simplest terms she could, "But it also gives her a natural affinity for healing magic."

"Healing magic. You mean like potions and stuff?"

Erza shook her head, "No. Like healing spells. I've seen her mend broken bones in just a few minutes. In fact, she saved my life on a mission just recently. We were battling a dark guild known as the Oracion Seis. I ended up getting poisoned by one of the enemy mages. If it wasn't for her magic, I probably would've died."

Jon's face went ashen, "Your spells can be that dangerous?"

Erza nodded, "Absolutely. That is why a wizard must dedicate themselves to training. If they don't, they can lose a step. And if you lose a step in a fight, then you risk your life." Erza lay back in the grass, the warmth of the fire running over her as she stared up at the stars, "When my life is done, I want it to be on my terms. Not on any else's terms. But I don't think that will happen for a very long time to come."

"Hopefully." Jon nodded before he fell back on his elbows beside her, "What about Gray? I'm going to be on the Wall with him after all. What is he like?"

"Gray? He's… very laid back normally. Enjoys just sitting around in the guild hall. But when a fight comes, he's deadly serious. And you find a more loyal friend than him." Erza glanced at Jon, "You watch his back, and he will definitely watch yours."

Jon nodded, "I'm glad to hear that. And what about his magic?"

Erza chuckled, "You're gonna love the irony of this." She turned on her side to face Jon, "Gray uses Ice Make Magic."

Jon laughed out loud, "Ice Magic?"

"Ice make magic." Erza corrected.

"What's the difference?"

"Well… ice make magic relies on the wizards imagination more than anything else. Whatever Gray can think of, he can form with his ice magic if he has enough power to do so."

Jon's mouth fell open, "So… if he wanted to say, build a birdhouse-"

"A birdhouse?" Erza snorted.

"Yes a birdhouse. Don't laugh, I'm being serious!" Jon replied while Erza chuckled quietly. Once Erza finished chuckling, Jon shook his head and continued, "So he could make a birdhouse out of ice?"

Erza nodded.

"That's incredible."

"It is. He's very good at it."

"Are there any other members of your team, Erza?" Jon asked as she lay down on his side beside her.

"Yes, there's Lucy. She's a Celestial Spirit Mage. It's a very rare magic to have."

"What does that mean?"

"Lucy is a summoner. She uses golden keys based off of the zodiac in order to summon spirits from the stars."

Jon's eyes widened, "That sounds too incredible, even for you."

"Well you better believe because it's true. She has silver and gold keys. The silver keys summon minor spirits, and are easy to find. But the gold keys, those are the truly powerful ones. There are only twelve in existence. And right now, Lucy has nine golden keys."

"Wow!" Jon gasped, "She must be very powerful then."

"For her school of magic, yes she is. Though she does doubt herself, and that can cause her problems. She's far more powerful than she gives herself credit for."

"Do her star spirits have names?"

"Hm? Yes of course they do." Erza furrowed her brow for a moment as she tried to recall them all, "They are, Loke- well his real name is Leo, but he likes to be called Loke. He's the lion key. Then there's Sagittarius, the archer key. Virgo, the maiden key-"

"Wait a moment." Jon interrupted, "The Lion? The Archer? The Maiden? Those are names of stars in your world?"

"Actually, they're the basic names for constellations in my world." Erza replied.

Jon's eyes widened he then rolled over onto his back and pointed up at the night sky. Erza followed suit, her brown eyes staring up at the innumerable twinkling lights above her.

"Have you studied the constellations of Westeros yet?" Jon asked.

Erza shook her head, "No. I haven't given that much thought."

"Maybe you should now." Jon pointed at a group of stars below the dull half moon, "See that group there."

"Yes?"

"That is the Shadowcat. We call it, Leo."

Erza felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Then beside, Leo," Jon's finger moved left, "The Stallion, Sagittarius. He has a rider with a bow and arrow."

Erza felt her heart beginning to beat faster as she began to piece together what Jon was telling her.

"Then over there." Jon's finger whipped across the sky, "That is the Moonmaid-"

"Virgo." Erza said breathlessly.

"Aye." Jon nodded. Erza turned to look at him, "Virgo." Jon stared Erza directly in the eyes, "Your world has the same constellations as mine. We just use different animals for them."

Erza turned her head back up at the stars and stared up. She could not believe it. Was it really true? Did her world share constellations with Westeros? What did this mean? Was she closer to a way home than she thought? Her mind was racing. Struggling to fit this new information into the puzzle she had only now started to piece together. But instead of growing frustrated, she began to laugh with joy.

"Jon." She turned on her side to face him again, "You have no idea what you have done."

"Well, I think I may have given you some hope of getting home?" Jon replied with a grin.

"Of course you did!" Erza breathed, not realizing that both of their faces were drawing closer to each other, "Do you know what this means? Maybe, just maybe, if I find Lucy, she could summon her spirits. And using them, we could find a way home! All I'd have to do after finding her is find the others that came here with me."

Jon's smile faded for a brief moment as Erza grew more excited about the prospect of finally leaving Westeros and going home. But then he just closed his eyes and smiled again.

"I'm glad I could help." He whispered.

"You've done more than help!" Erza cried, "You've given me a clue. A clue I've been searching for for months now!"

She could feel her heart racing. Not just from the excitement she now felt, she could feel something else causing it to beat faster as well. She turned to face Jon again. His beard was starting to grow back. Small tufts of black stubble were forming on his cheeks and chin. Erza had to agree, he did look better with a beard than without one.

Beside them, the fire began to slowly die. Embers spat out every now and again and the logs began to fade. The pair still had not realized how closely they were lying to each other. Their faces mere inches apart. Their breaths gently touching the other's cheeks. Erza felt her stomach turn into a knot for some reason. Then, in her mind, she saw a young man with blue hair and a face tattoo looking back at her. Her breathing slowed down and her heart stopped skipping. A wave of guilt washed over her suddenly as Jon inched a little closer.

Jon meanwhile, could feel himself blushing tremendously. Here he was, lying down beside Erza Scarlet. Not only was she a stunning woman, but she was kind, sweet, strong, fun. She was incredible. He could feel his stomach doing flips as he felt himself drifting closer, his lips inching ever so slowly towards hers. He closed his eyes, and hoped he was doing this correctly.

Suddenly, he felt Erza's strong arms force him back. Jon's eyes slowly opened and he looked at her puzzled. Then he felt embarrassment fill him.

"Um… sorry, I must've-"

"No, no." Erza interrupted, "It's not you it's just-" Erza sat up and cleared her throat, "Um… yeah. Awkward."

"Very." Jon admitted.

"I think I should go get some sleep now." Erza rose, "I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Y-yes. R-right." Jon stammered.

Erza turned then yelped as she tripped over the last embers of the campfire. She quickly scrambled to her feet, smiled sheepishly at Jon, then strode over to her tent. Jon meanwhile, remained where he was. He lay still for a moment before groaning and smacking the back of his head against the soft ground.

"Damn it."

 **And chapter! I'm a tease, sorry! Anyways, that was another fun small chapter to write. And it will be the last small Erza one before we get into the meat of GOT, I promise! Everytime I gear up to get the main plot going, I just find other ways to develop the relationships and characters that I feel I just cannot pass up. So I do apologize for the rather slow pacing. That is going to change very soon, trust me. As for my canon adjustment, there was a tiny one right there. Yes, the constellation in GOT are named Shadowcat, Moonmaiden, and Stallion. And GOT only has ten total, but I'm gonna tweak that to twelve for story purposes. As for the Shadowcat being named Leo, well on Earthland the Lion is named Leo. Each constellations seems to have a second name that is a proper noun (I think i used the correct grammar term there?). So why not the GOT ones too. And (thankfully!) those names are never specified in the books or in the wiki of Ice and Fire, so I could freewheel that one as much as I wanted! This is very important to the story, but I won't say anymore! And that little tidbit of Jon and Erza at the end there, perhaps they are becoming more than friends? Hmm? Anyways, let me know what you guys think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	32. Lucy III

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Lucy

"There's nothing more infuriating than sitting here and waiting." Lucy grumbled. She wrapped the edges of her red cloak tightly around her form. The wind from the narrow sea had a bite to it today. A cold, frigid edge that made Lucy shiver whenever it brushed over her skin.

"Actually," She continued, "I should say, there is nothing more infuriating than sitting here and waiting on you or that Lord Baratheon guy to do something."

To her right, Melisandre stood still, her dark eyes gazing out at the Narrow Sea. They followed the setting sun as it lumbered down from it's perch to the horizon's depths. The cold didn't seem to affect her. The wind that whipped violently around Lucy seemed to grow calm when it approached the Red Woman. And she remained silent despite Lucy's complaining.

The blonde let out a long, heavy sigh then shook her head.

"I think Lord Stannis doesn't want us around anymore."

"If he did not wish for us to be here then we would have been cast out days ago." Melisandre finally replied, "He's interested in what we have to offer. But right now, he's judging whether or not now is the right time to take our services."

Lucy arched an eyebrow, "What do you mean right time?"

Melisandre turned to Lucy, "Look out at the sea, Lucy." The blondes' brown eyes turned to the ocean. It was calm. Still as glass despite the ferocious wind. "What do you see?"

Lucy frowned, "Is this a rhetorical question?"

"No. No," Melisandre shook her head, "Just tell me what you see."

Lucy's frown deepened. What was the point of looking out at the ocean? There was nothing to see out there. No ships, no waves, just still water lazily drifting on the world.

"Just water."

"It is calm, isn't it?" Melisandre said.

Lucy nodded.

"But will it stay that way for long?" She asked Lucy.

"Well no." Lucy replied, "It's the ocean. Sooner or later, the waves will rise and a storm will come."

"Yes," Melisandre nodded, "A storm will come." She took a deep breath, "This wind, it's a foreboding one. It brings the first breath of winter on it. Can you feel it?" Lucy looked at Melisandre puzzled. But before she could respond, the Red Woman continued, "With the arrival of winter, conflict will come to Westeros. That is how it has been for centuries. Winters are hard. Winters are long. And Winters are dangerous. Hard, dangerous seasons bring out the worst in mankind. War will come to Westeros, whether the people like it or not." She glanced over at Lucy, "Lord Stannis is being very wise. He's preparing for that certainty. And our counsel interests him."

The last of the sun's rays began to fade below the horizon. As the purple of twilight began to color the sky, Melisandre folded her hands and turned away from the sun. She started back up the rocky island towards the small inn she was staying in.

"Our counsel?" Lucy questioned.

"Yes, our. As far at Stannis Baratheon is concerned, you are a Red Priestess in training. This will not only give you some authority, but it will also give you protection." Melisandre explained as they walked up the slick stone slope towards the fortress of Dragonstone, "Men fear what they do not understand. And the men of Westeros certainly do not understand the Lord of Light."

Lucy frowned, "Fear also makes humanity more prone to violence."

"Ah, this is also true." Melisandre noted, "You are learning quickly. Fear is a double edged sword. It can be used to both subdue and cause unrest among those you wish to control. There is a fine line you must walk in that regard. Create enough uncertainty for men to not know what you are capable of while at the same time convince them that what you do is for their own good. Then they will follow you. The question then becomes, how much do they fear you?" Melisandre and Lucy reached the top of the slope then trekked towards the castle.

"All leadership cannot be built on fear?" Lucy wondered aloud, "If that was the case, then loyalty would be a shallow thing."

Melisandre nodded again, " It is a great rarity for a leader to arise that inspires more love from their followers than fear. Most leadership is built on fear. Most empires, most kingdoms, even most religions are built on fear. Fear of the military, fear of disaster, fear of god, all a form of fear. In a way, the only god men truly understand is fear. And it is our job as red priestesses to show them R'hllor. A being to be feared above all others."

"But doesn't _your_ R'hllor-" Melisandre gave Lucy a stern glare, "Our lord." The Blonde quickly corrected, "Doesn't he care about his followers? Why would he want them living in fear of him?"

Melisandre smirked, "You ask the tough questions, Lucy. It is what makes you so intelligent. I admire that."

The pair reached the small village around Dragonstone. Already the villagers had begun to retreat indoors for the night. Some still roamed about, most likely heading for one of the little taverns on the island. But beyond the spare straggling trying to get drunk, Dragonstone was quiet.

"There are different kinds of fear, Lucy. There is true fear. Fear for your life. The kind of fear that makes men piss themselves."

Melisandre stopped walking and nodded up at fortress. It's massive black walls stood tall over the two red priestesses. They were like great black shadows. The towers were like enormous black fingers piercing the night sky. Small spots of fire burned in braziers on the battlements. A little lantern lights flickered from inside the great castle.

"Dragonstone is a good example of that. Aegon the Conqueror built this castle to intimidate all who dared approach his island. And it worked."

"And the other kind of fear?" Lucy asked.

"The other kind of fear, is respect." Melisandre answered.

"Respect?"

"Yes." Melisandre pointed at the tallest tower. The tower where the Lord of Dragonstone resided, "How else do you think men such as Stannis Baratheon gain followers? It is certainly not because others love him. Most see him as a cold, emotionless man that they could never relate to. Yet, me fear him, because they respect him. They respect his power and what he can do with it. And so, men serve him."

The Red Woman reached the door to the inn first. She gently pushed the rickety old door open. Inside, a fire was already blazing in the hearth. Men from around dragonstone had gathered to quietly drink in the common room. Lucy could hear discussions about the harvest going on. Others talked about the cold wind coming from the North. Almost everyone deemed it an ill omen.

"Storm's a brewing." A gruff old farmer with a single blind eye said, "Them Stark's are always right. Winter be coming."

"Aye." A younger, stronger lad with a fresh face and bright eyes smirked, "And we'll be ready for it."

Lucy saw the old man spit into a pot, "You're never ready for yer first winter, boy. And this one will be cold. I can feel it in my bones."

"That might be just your bones being old." The younger man laughed.

"How arrogant the young are today." Melisandre whispered into Lucy's ear, "And yet, he's more likely to survive the coming years than the old man who has survived all the previous ones."

The pair sat down in front of the fire. Melisandre began staring intently into the flames. Lucy had no doubt that she was seeing something in the fire. While, the red woman gazed through the flames, Lucy called the barkeep over and ordered a glass of water and some bread for herself and Melisandre. They had hardly eaten all day and Lucy would've been lying if she said she wasn't hungry.

Just as she was about to bite into a steaming roll, the door to the inn burst open with a loud crash. Lucy froze when she heard the sound of chainmail clinking towards her. She turned to see three of Stannis Baratheon's guards walking up to her and Melisandre.

"You the Red Witch?" The lead guard asked Lucy.

"Um…"

"We are the Red Priestess of R'hllor." Melisandre replied monotonously.

The lead guard swallowed hard when he heard Melisandre's voice, "Lord Stannis wishes to speak with you." He motioned to the door, "If you both please…"

Melisandre tore her gaze from the fire, "Very well. Come Lucy."

"But- but-" Lucy looked down sorrowfully at her plate of dinner rolls, "I'm hungry."

….

He gripped the painted table hard. The whites of his knuckles showed as he stared down at the blank space marked King's Landing. Days ago, Stannis had removed the sigil of House Baratheon from that cursed, wretched city. It was no longer his brother's capital. With the death of Jon Arryn, it was only a matter of time before his dearest older brother lost his crown.

Stannis shook his head. How that fool came to sit on the Iron Throne he'll never know. He did not doubt the military skill of his older brother. No man alive could match him on the battlefield. No man alive that is, except for himself and perhaps Lord Eddard Stark.

 _Then there is Lord of the Rock._ Stannis reminded himself. His dark eyes narrowed at the city of Lannisport where a lion figurine stood defiant against him.

Tywin Lannister, the patriarch of the Lannister family. The most powerful man in Westeros. Stannis snorted. That was the truth. Robert held power only as a formality, a gift from the true King of Westeros. The true King's seat was in Casterly Rock. No wonder Robert kowtowed to him so damn much.

Stannis balled his fist. The very thought of eventually bowing to the spawn of Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister infuriated him. It infuriated him that Jon Arryn, the one man he trusted on the Small Council, died because he discovered the truth. And if he hadn't fled the capital, Stannis was certain he would have been next.

 _And Robert wouldn't of done a goddamn thing._ Stannis scowled.

A knock at his door drew Stannis away from his brooding.

"Enter." He said sternly.

The door opened and the two red priestesses strode in. The first one, Melisandre, carried herself with confidence and authority. Head held high, chest out, hands clasped in front of her. She held power, that much Stannis could tell. The other one though, the blonde. She seemed nervous, unsure of herself. Then again, Lady Melisandre did say she was a student. Not a true Red Priestess.

 _Strange for someone to bring a learner so far from their home._ Stannis thought.

"You summoned us, my lord." Melisandre said in an even tone.

"That I did." Stannis turned towards them, "I have given your… proposals some thought." Stannis took a deep breath, "And before I say anything else, I want to know, what can you give to me?"

Melisandre smiled, "The Lord of Light's power and wisdom."

"And what kind of power would that be?" Stannis asked, "Every religion, every god under the sun says they can grant their followers power. And yet, I have yet to see it." Stannis turned back to the Painted Table, "Did you know, that during Robert's Rebellion, I was tasked with defending my home of Storm's End from attack."

"I knew this, yes." Melisandre replied.

"This is news to me." Lucy muttered under her breath.

"Well I was." Stannis said, "During the Rebellion, the Mad King set the Tyrells loose on us. They came to Storm's End and laid siege. I had five hundred men to hold that castle against an army of thousands. When the siege began, my men prayed to their gods that the arrows and swords would stop coming. They weren't answered. When we began to run out of food, my men prayed." Stannis paused, "I prayed. We were not answered. When we began to eat rats, and drink piss, my men… cursed the gods. As did I. We cursed the Tyrells. We cursed the Lannisters and the Targaryens. We cursed my damn fool of a brother for not sending aid. We cursed the seven, we cursed the old gods, and the new, and whatever other fucking god we could name. Do you know what happened next?"

Melisandre remained silent. Lucy shook her head.

"Food came." Stannis answered, "Food came in the form of a smuggler bringing onions by sea. No king delivered food, and certainly no god did. No, a man looking to make some gold delivered food to my starving men. And because of that one man, not a single Tyrell or Targaryen banner flew over Storm's End." Stannis stared hard at Melisandre and Lucy, "So tell me, what makes your god different from the others? What makes your god, greater than a smuggler."

Melisandre bowed her head, "R'hllor is not a statue. He is not a tree either, my lord." She tiptoed up to Stannis Baratheon then laid a hand on his cheek, "The Lord of Light is life. He is fire. He is a power few can ever comprehend. And to his followers, he grants powers, magics that can destroy armies. That can make kingdoms fall… and rise. Powers that can call down the stars," Melisandre cast a quick glance at Lucy, "And magic that can make the world-"

Stannis's eyes widened. Lucy yelped in surprise. The ground was shaking. It was gentle at first. Like a mother's hand rocking a babe's crib. Then it grew more violent. The pieces aboard the table began to shudder. First the wolf in the North fell. Then the Stag at Storm's End. The Lion at Casterly rock shifted to and fro. And the Kraken fell into the sea. Lucy could feel the walls shuddering around her. The rock began to crack. The timbers in the roof groaned. And every candle in the room began to burn white hot. Their flames rose higher. The heat grew more intense. Wax pooled down onto the floor as fire burned away the wicks and candlesticks. All the while, Melisandre stared unblinking at Stannis Baratheon. In that moment, Lucy felt it. The briefest of flashes from Melisandre. She could feel magic coming from the Red Woman. Not just any magic either. But real magic. Earthland magic. The kind that normally gave Lucy a warm feeling. But this time, that warm feeling felt wrong. It felt invasive. Completely unnatural and absolutely aweinspiring. She had not felt this much power since... since she felt Natsu and Erza battling Jellal in the Tower of Heaven.

Lucy's eyes widened. Was Melisandre really capable of this much power? Was she hiding her true strength from her this entire time? And if so, why? Why would she hide this magic from Lucy? Why would she not teach Lucy how to use that magic so she could call on her spirits once again?

Lucy's eyes only grew wider as the pressure around the room increased. It was unbearably hot now. The candles burned like bright stars in the room. Lucy could feel sweat dripping down her neck and pooling in her clenched fists. Her breaths were growing short. A sense of danger filled her. She felt like she had to run. Escape, do whatever she could to flee from Melisandre. Yet, she couldn't move. An invisible force held her there. Whether it was fear freezing her, or something else entirely, Lucy did not know.

Just as abruptly as it began, the earth ceased trembling. The candles dimmed and the heat faded away. Melisandre closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Meanwhile, Stannis stared dumbfounded at her.

"The Lord of Light will give you his power." Melisandre breathed to Stannis, "But all power comes at a cost."

Stannis's jaw tightened, "I'm willing to pay it."

Melisandre smirked, "You will hear from me in due time. For now, rest. And prepare for the coming storm. For you will be the lord's champion."

The Red Woman turned away from Stannis Baratheon, "Come Lucy. We must rest as well."

"Wha-what was that?" Lucy sputtered, "You- you used magic!"

Melisandre glared at the blonde. Lucy gulped. The red woman never glared at her like that. It reminded her of one of Erza's scary stares, only somehow far more terrifying. It was like a predator was staring down its prey.

Lucy could feel her spine crawl as Melisandre stared straight through her. It was a warning. She was saying too much. And if she continued, Melisandre would have to silence her. Lucy gulped at the thought of possibly facing down this woman. If she had her keys then maybe she'd stand a chance. But she still couldn't feel her own magic. Only the Red Witch's magic seemed to exist. It hung in the air like a dark cloud. Lucy was certain that if she could properly detect the ethernanos in the room right now, she'd be stunned by the amount. And despite the presence of such overwhelming power, she was unable to access her own magic. She felt helpless, completely powerless. And it was terrifying.

"Come." Melisandre ordered sternly.

Without another word, Lucy fell into step behind the Red Witch.

 **Ooooh. This is interesting isn't it? Melisandre used magic. And not just any magic either, but magic Lucy could recognize and feel. I wonder what that could mean? Hm… Let me know what you guys think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	33. Erza XI

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

The crisp morning air rushing over her body would have been the thing to wake her up this morning. But Erza Scarlet was already awake. In fact, she had never actually fallen asleep. Not for lack of trying though. Erza had tossed and turned most of the night. But no matter what she did, no matter how she positioned herself, no matter how many sheep she ended up counting (four hundred and twenty one to be exact) sleep eluded her. In the end, she gave up and just stared through a small crack in the roof of her tent, where the pole met the cloth.

The stars were still out, barely. But the sun's orange and pink glow was beginning to form on the horizon. It was shaping up to be a cloudless day in the North. A rarity that everyone here enjoyed. But Erza doubted she'd enjoy it. Her mind was far too occupied to relish in the simple things of life.

First there was the revelation that the stars she was seeing above her head were the same as Earthland's. The same constellations, the same bright specks of light, just different names. Leo the Shadowcat, Virgo the Moonmaiden; she could hardly believe it even now. It was a clue. She knew it was. There was a way home, but how to get there was the question. She couldn't figure it out.

 _If only Lucy or Levy were here._ Erza thought as she rolled onto her side, her eyes now gazing at her polished armor that rested in the corner of her tent. _If only I could find them. Or maybe, they could find me._ She let out a heavy sigh, _This is driving me insane._

It wasn't the only thing bothering her mind though. In fact, it was something else that kept her awake most of the night. A fluttering in her chest as she replayed an event that nearly happened the previous night.

She and Jon Snow had nearly kissed! Her face turned red at the thought. Erza closed her eyes and took a deep breath. That was something that could not happen. Sure, Jon was a good man. She knew that much. He was kind, honest, respectful, a bit stupid at times. He wasn't sour like his father, though he did put up a good facade when he needed to. There was a shell that one had to break in order to meet the real Jon Snow. The one who enjoyed a good brawl and laughed at a bad joke. She had seen that wall in his personality fall many times around her, several times when Robb was around, and once with Bran and Arya. She smiled as she recalled the results. Jon chasing Arya around the grounds as she tripped him. Robb relentlessly teasing him and Jon just laughing until he fell over.

Erza smacked herself. She could feel her cheeks getting warmer and her heart pounding. No! This could not be happening! She didn't belong in this world. She didn't belong in Westeros. She could not fall for someone here. She had to get home, to Earthland, to her friends in Fairy Tail. And Jon… he had to go to the Wall. That is the path he has chosen. The one place Erza certainly could not follow him. Once he swears the oath, his life will belong to the Night's Watch. He can hold no lands, no titles, father no children. No… she could not have these feelings for Jon. For both of their sakes.

Besides _,_ Erza could see him in her mind still. Jellal. Despite everything he had done, she still held something for him. Erza shook her head and groaned.

"Why do I always get the complicated relationships." She wondered aloud. Erza blinked and ran her hands over her face. "Oh my god. I sound like Lucy."

The birds started to chirp in the trees around the campsite. Outside, the sun's warm glow began to melt the blanket of frost that covered the ground. Erza huffed. There was no point in trying to sleep anymore. The others will be awake soon. And King Robert would want to start hunting as soon as possible.

Erza reached for her armor then quietly slid out of her tent. The crips air hit her skin like a whip. Despite how tired she felt, she was wide awake thanks to the cold. She shivered then put her armor over her head. Once it was on her torso, she struggled to reach for the buckles and straps on the sides.

"Dammit." She muttered as a belt slipped from her grasp, "I'm never going to get used to this."

"Need some help?"

Erza jumped then looked to see Robb waking from his tent as well. His curly, auburn hair was a mess this morning. Despite how much sleep he got, he still looked exhausted. There were bags under his half open eyes. That and he looked a little sickly. He let out a silent burp and grimaced at the taste of his own breath.

 _A hangover._ Erza noted to herself, "Sure." She replied.

Robb nodded and reached for the buckles on her armor. He then sighed and shook his head, still attempting to clear the sleep from his mind.

"Hungover?" Erza asked.

"Maybe a little." Robb grunted as he tightened a strap.

"Serves you right. You tried to go round for round with King Robert last night." Erza chuckled.

Robb snorted, "I figured since I'm younger I'd be able to keep up." He shook his head, "Instead, I'm younger and that makes me an idiot." He winced then rubbed his pounding head.

"Water." Erza nodded over at the horses where several skins of water were waiting, "It'll help with the edge. And I'm sure Ser Barristan and Lancel will have bacon cooking in a minute or two."

"Bacon? How will that help?" Robb asked.

"Greasy food tastes the best when your hungover." Erza stated as she sat down beside what remained of their roaring fire.

It was still warm. The coals and bits of wood still had a soft red glow beneath them. Erza had to give credit to Ser Barristan. The old knight knew how to cook and build a fire. She was amazed it was still burning, even now. The red haired warrior grabbed several sticks from the woods and tossed them onto the coals before prodding them. Within a couple moments, the fire was alive again.

"How do you know that greasy food tastes the best when you're hungover?" Robb asked.

Erza glanced at him, "I've been drunk before."

Robb blinked in surprise.

"What?" Erza asked.

"Nothing. Just… surprised I suppose."

"Why?"

"Well, I didn't take you for a drinker. Especially after you turned down King Robert's wine last night."

Erza shrugged, "I've drank alcohol before. No one likes me when I'm drunk though. I tend to go a little overboard. So I avoid it when I can."

"Overboard?"

Erza nodded, "I get a little aggressive."

"Ah." Robb nodded, "So just your usual self without restraints?"

Erza shoved his arm, "Shut it."

"My point exactly." Robb chuckled before glancing over to see Lancel and Ser Barristan emerging from their tents.

The King's squire immediately took a peek inside of King Robert's tent. He heard a loud snore then quietly let the tent flap fall.

"He's still sleeping?" Ser Barristan asked as he went over to the horses and gathered food for breakfast.

"Yes, ser." Lancel replied, "He drank heavily last night."

"He drinks heavily every night." Barristan pointed out as he grabbed a pot and pan. He then walked over to the fire, set the pot and pan over it, then threw bacon onto the pan and porridge into the pot.

"Good morning you two." Barristan nodded to both Erza and Robb.

"Good morning." Erza replied.

"Hello, Ser Barristan." Robb yawned.

Barristan smirked at Robb, "The King's too much for you?"

Erza began to chuckle as Robb opened and closed his mouth.

"I-um, no I just-"

Barristan waved his hand, "Don't worry. He can outdrink anyone. The man's liver will be pickled in a few years time."

"Actually, I have an old friend from home that might be able to outdrink him." Erza said.

"Back in Yi Ti?" Barristan asked.

Erza blinked. She was about to rely, 'where?', when she realized that Yi Ti and the lands beyond the Jade Sea were her cover story. The lie she had thought up in order to explain how she came to the North. She could not go around saying she was a wizard from another world. Judging by how suspicious people were in Westeros, those words would not go over well. And the political consequences for Lord Stark if the people suspected he had a wizard in his midst would be catastrophic. According to Maester Luwin that is. Only Jon and Lord Stark could know the truth. Everyone else had to be convinced otherwise.

"Yes." Erza replied, "Her name is Cana. And she could easily drink King Robert under the table."

"A woman drinking a fully grown man under the table?" Lancel scoffed, "I doubt that."

"Well, I drank you under the table last night." Erza countered, "How does that make you feel?"

Robb sputtered on some water before he and Barristan began to laugh loudly at Lancel's expense.

"I was not trying to get drunk last night." Lancel stammered.

"Aye," Robb laughed, "You were trying to get the King drunk so he would stop embarrassing you." Robb stood to his feet, puffed his chest out and lowered his voice, "Gods dammit, Lannister! Are you daft or just that much of a fucking idiot." Robb said in a low voice, doing his best to impersonate a drunk King Robert. "Lannister, the woman knows how to be a man better than you! How does that make you feel?"

Erza laughed out loud with Ser Barristan while Lancel grew red in the face.

"Oh, don't be so embarrassed." Erza laughed, "Smile a little. Don't look so constipated." She sniffed the air as the bacon began to crackle, "Smells good."

"I do my best." Barristan breathed as he tried to catch his breath.

"Speaking of embarrassment." Robb sat down beside Erza, "You and Jon were up late last night."

Erza froze. She could feel her cheeks suddenly heat up. She glanced over at Robb and saw him smirking at her.

"Nothing happened." Erza replied stiffly.

"Your face says otherwise." Robb chuckled.

"Nothing happened! So, shut up!" Erza barked causing Robb to laugh even more.

"You sound like Arya when me and Theon tease her." Robb breathed, "Shut up this! Shut up that! By the gods, you may actually be a long lost sibling of mine. That would make your… erm… friendship… with Jon a tad awkward."

Erza raised her fist, "Another word and I beat you senseless."

Robb's mirth disappeared and her gulped. He knew very well that when Erza threatened someone, she wouldn't hesitate to follow through with it. Erza glared at him as she lowered her fist. Ser Barristan and Lancel stopped laughing and waited with bated breath as Erza stared down an anxious Robb Stark. Then Erza lowered her voice.

"Gods dammit Robb Stark, are you afraid of a woman now?" She said, doing her best to impersonate King Robert.

Lancel spat out the water he was drinking while Barristan laughed heartily. Robb's cheeks flushed then he began to chuckle as well.

"Well played, Erza Scarlet." He nodded, "Well played."

"I had you there." Erza pointed at him, "You should've seen the look on your face."

"I thought you were serious!" Robb cried.

"I was." Erza admitted, "But I turned it into a joke. How about that huh?"

Barristan smiled then pulled the pan and pot away from the fire. The bacon was popping and crisping in it's own grease while the porridge was bubbling to a perfect temperature. The old knight quickly filled four bowls and handed pieces of meat to his younger companions.

"Thank you." Erza muttered. She took a large bit of bacon then glanced over at Jon's tent, "Speaking of Jon. Where is he?"

Robb cocked an eyebrow, "I'm not sure. Breakfast usually wakes him up."

"He's been up for a while already." Ser Barristan noted, "Him and Lord Stark both. He wanted to speak with Lord Stark about some private matters. So they went for a little morning stroll through the woods."

Erza gobbled down another piece of bacon, "Private matters?" She questioned.

"Yes. And as the phrase implies, I don't know what they are discussing." Barristan replied.

Erza took a sip of water then glanced over at Jon's tent again. She knew what Jon might be discussing with his father. If the conversation wasn't about him going to the Wall to join the Night's Watch, then it was about her and how she was trying to get home. Maybe he was talking to Lord Stark about last night's discovery. If that were the case, then maybe Lord Stark will have Maester Luwin assist her in studying the stars. Maybe she'd find more clues there. Erza shook her head.

 _First find everyone._ She reminded herself, _Then get home._

A long groan came from the King's tent. Then a loud belch. The large man stumbled out of his tent and took a long breath.

"I need to take a piss." He mumbled before stomping off into the woods.

Erza glanced over at Lancel.

"You heard him. He needs help taking a piss."

"Shut up!"

….

Jon rubbed his arms as he walked beside his father, Lord Eddard Stark. He had gone to his father before the sun had risen. He could not sleep. His mind was racing, filled with thoughts that he was having difficulty understanding. And he hoped his father could help clear his mind. When he asked Lord Stark to have a private conversation with him, the Lord of Winterfell had sleepily nodded, threw on his boots and a coat then walked with Jon away from the camp and into the woods. The pair had been walking silently now for a few minutes, each waiting for the other to start speaking. Finally, Ned paused and put his hands on his hips.

"Alright." He muttered, "I think we are far enough away from the camp."

Jon turned back and nodded, "Aye. I think so too."

Ned saw his son's face. He looked troubled. Worried even. It was unlike him to be like this. Jon was normally a quiet lad. But a worried one he was not.

"What is it, Jon?" Ned asked bluntly.

Jon shifted his feet, "Am I doing the right thing?"

Ned raised his brow, "Pardon?"

"Am I doing the right thing going to the wall?" Jon asked.

Ned shifted his jaw back and forth, "There is great honor is serving in the Night's Watch. You are protecting the realm from the darkness beyond the Wall. It is not a small responsibility. I would say you are doing the right thing." Ned narrowed his eyes, "This was never something you questioned before." He noted, "What's bothering you?"

Jon pursed his lips, "It's…" He took a deep breath and frowned.

"Is it Erza?" Ned asked.

Jon's bowed his head then nodded.

"You have feelings for her?"

"I think so." Jon said, his voice filled with uncertainty, "And I want to help her. As much as I can. I want her to be able to go home and see her family again. I just…" Jon wiped his mouth, "I don't know how to go about this."

Ned nodded and placed a hand on his son's shoulder, "You are young. This is normal. You are young and friends with a beautiful woman. It happens to all of us."

"Did it happen to you with Lady Stark?"

Ned grimaced. Then he changed the subject, "Jon, you are a man now." He started, "I cannot make decisions for you anymore. You must make them yourself. I will say this, the question you are asking yourself, is do you choose love… or duty? Every man faces that question in their lives. The choice you make will determine your course. But what happens down the road you choose, I cannot say. That is for you to discover."

Jon titled his head, puzzled.

"The Wall needs men, Jon. I'm already sending your Uncle back with all I can. Most are not fighters. Most are poachers who've never held a sword in their lives. Then there is-"

"Gray Fullbuster." Jon interrupted.

Ned nodded, "Yes. Erza's old friend. A young man I promised would be safe at the Wall. Now I cannot keep an eye on him. I've asked Benjen to do so, but even he has duties that come first. He is First Ranger of the Night's Watch after all. Commander Mormont will want him focused on that before any personal mission given to him by his older brother. He will do as all Stark's have done before him, he will do his duty with honor." Ned bowed his head, "You have already told, no... begged, your Uncle to take you to the Wall so you could be a brother in black. And while he would not hold it against you if you chose not to go, I cannot be sure of the path your life will take if you remain in Winterfell."

"Why's that?" Jon asked.

Ned ran a hand through hair, "King Robert has asked me to be his next Hand." He explained.

Jon's mouth fell open, "Are you serious?"

Lord Stark nodded, "And I plan on accepting. As part of this arrangement, Sansa will be marrying Prince Joffrey. That also means that she will be coming with me to King's Landing." Ned took a long breath, "And you would have to remain in Winterfell if you do not go to Castle Black."

"I'll be living there with Lady Catelyn." Jon noted with a slight frown.

"Yes, with Cat." Ned nodded grimly.

Jon sighed, "I know she doesn't like me. And she has never loved me."

"That's no fault of your own." Ned replied.

"I know that." Jon glanced back at his father, "It's not like I can control who my mother was." Jon pursed his lips, "I just- I just wish that I could actually be a part of this family."

"You are a part of this family, Jon." Lord Stark replied.

"No. I'm no Stark. I'm a Snow." Jon replied, "Lady Catelyn knows that too. And once you are gone, there will be no one in the castle that can say otherwise." Jon nodded to himself, "Perhaps it will be better if I go to the Wall. Maybe there, I'll find a family."

Ned looked at Jon wearily, "You will always have family in Winterfell, Jon. You are a wolf." He went up to his son and stared him in the eye, "What did I always tell you and Robb when you were boys?"

"The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." Jon replied.

"No matter where you go, or what you do, you are my son." Ned said firmly, "That makes you a Stark in all but name. You are my blood. The blood of the direwolf. Of Bran the Builder, of my father, and his father before him." He rested his hands on Jon's shoulders, "And I know you will do me proud no matter what you do with your life."

Jon took a shuddering breath then nodded, "I will."

Ned patted his son's shoulders then let out a long breath, "Is there anything else?"

He was tempted to tell Lord Stark about the discovery he made with Erza. How the stars she knows are the same as the ones they know. That Leo the Shadowcat was a constellation in her world. That maybe, the way home for her could be found in the stars. But he didn't. He kept his mouth closed.

"No, father." Jon replied.

"Good." Ned nodded before stretching his arms, "The sun has risen. Let's get back to camp. I'm sure the King is already awake. And he will want to hunt boar as soon as possible."

"So he can eat it." Jon chuckled.

"No doubt there." Ned replied.

….

The walk back to the camp took only a few minutes. Upon arrival, Jon could see that everyone was now awake. Robb was nursing a splitting headache and guzzling down water as she sat beside Erza. Ser Barristan was cleaning what remained of the breakfast dishes. Lancel was assisting the King in his tent. Jon could hear the large man barking curses at the poor Lannister boy. And Erza was sitting quietly beside the dying fire. Her hands were folded over her lap.

To Jon, she looked absolutely radiant. Her red hair seemed to be even more bold on this cloudless day. He quickly shook his head. As much as he wanted to tell Erza that he cared for her, he could not. He had made up his mind on the walk back to camp. He would do as his father, and his father before him had done. He would do as all Stark's have done. He would do his duty. And his duty was to the Night's Watch. He could feel that in his heart. The Wall was where he belonged. He would serve the realm and protect it with his life. Once he swore that oath, there would be no going back.

There would be no life with Erza Scarlet.

 _Besides,_ he reminded himself, _She is from another world. A world she wants to go back to. A world I don't belong in._ Jon took a seat beside Erza. She smiled at him.

"I saved you some bacon." Erza held out a plate to him.

"Thank you." Jon nodded before he quietly took a bite, "Is the King almost ready?"

Erza shrugged, "I don't know. Lancel is trying to fit him into riding leathers. You'd think that after he took a twenty minute shit his gut would've gotten smaller?"

Jon choked for a moment before chuckling, "He's a man who enjoys the finer things in life." He replied cautiously.

"Perhaps he enjoys them a little too much." Erza noted.

Out of the corner of her eye, Erza could see Lord Stark speaking to Ser Barristan. Every now and then, he would glance over at Jon and Erza. Erza blinked. Were her eyes deceiving her, or was that a smile on Lord Stark's face. Everytime he looked over at Jon, his smile seemed to grow. Though behind that happy grin, Erza could see sorrow in his eyes. He was hiding something. Whatever he and Jon talked about was serious. She was tempted to ask Jon. But she stopped herself. It was a private matter. She had no business getting involved in it. Besides, Jon would probably speak to her about it in due time. For now, she had to get ready for a hunt.

"You almost ready?" Erza asked Jon.

Jon nodded, "Absolutely. I plan on getting the biggest catch of the day."

"Don't tell the King that." Erza replied with a grin, "He may take that as a challenge."

Before Jon could reply, Erza suddenly held up a hand. She could hear it. The steady beat of horse hooves hammering into the ground. Her hand fell to her sword.

"Someone's coming." Erza told Jon.

Jon gulped then looked down the trail where Erza was staring. Coming into view was a rider wearing a doublet with the direwolf stitched onto the right breast. The horse and rider was racing towards the encampment. Once he got closer, Jon instantly recognized him.

"It's Jory?"

"LORD STARK!" Jory Cassel, the captain of the guard cried as he got closer.

"Jory?" Ned looked at his trusted captain with confusion, "What are you doing here?"

"You must come back quickly, milord." Jory gasped.

"Why? Jory what's wrong?" Lord Stark asked.

"It's Bran." Jory panted, "He fell from the burned tower."

Erza's eyes widened. She glanced at Jon.

"Oh no." She breathed.

In the blink of an eye, Erza jumped to her feet and raced over to a horse. She jumped up into the saddle and snapped the reigns. The horse let out a loud cry before bolting down the trail back towards Winterfell. Behind her, she could hear Lord Stark, Robb, Jon, and Jory following her with their horses.

Erza dug her heels into her horse's haunches. The animal snorted then galloped faster.

"Come on!" Erza cried.

The wolfswood faded away around her. Before her, the great castle of Winterfell came into view. Unlike before, she didn't pause to take in the sheer scale of the fortress. Her only goal now was to get back to Bran. Her job was to protect him. Erza glanced up and saw the burned tower. A tower Bran had scaled many times with ease. And she had made sure she was nearby when he did. Just in case. Now, the one time she left Bran alone to climb, he fell.

Erza prayed he hadn't fallen from the top. If he did- Erza shook her head. Bran was fine. He just slipped near the bottom. That happened to him sometimes. In all of the months Erza had spent keeping an eye on the young Stark, he had never fallen from the Tower.

Never.

 **And chapter! There is my slight change to canon. Lord Stark and the King were out on a hunt when Bran fell. Honestly, if Erza was in the castle then Bran most likely would not have fallen from the tower since she would have been around to keep him from performing any mischief. And Bran's fall is the catalyst for this entire story. It sets things in motion that still have impact all the way into season seven of GOT. It's probably the most necessary and important plot point. Without Bran's fall, nothing in GOT happens. We are getting into the meat of the season one now (I know! Finally right!). And as you can tell, Erza is the best planned out story I have. Season one is the Stark's season, so she will definitely have the most chapters in this story for now. Although we will be revisiting Natsu very soon. Anyways, let me know what you all think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	34. Cana II

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Cana

Her head would not stop pounding. It felt like hammers were hitting the inside of her skull. Thump, thump, thump. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her temple. The pain woke her up. Cana cracked her right open. Sunlight streamed into the Inn at the Crossroads from the many windows that lined the common room. She hissed as a ray of sunshine hit her eyes.

"Oooooh." Cana groaned as she squeezed her eyes shut a let out a long breath.

"Finally awake are you?" A gruff, teasing voice asked her.

Cana slowly blinked the sleep from her eyes. She then propped herself up on her elbows. As she moved, her joints popped and her muscles ached. She could feel every fiber stretching and straining. Her body clearly hated her for sleeping on the floor last night.

 _Wait?_ Cana smacked her lips together as she attempted to jog her memory, _How'd I end up on the floor again?_

"Hey, girl." The voice said again, "You living? Or are you still drunk?"

Cana snorted indignantly at the voice, "I don't get drunk."

"Well, I saw you drunk last night. Drank you under the table in fact."

"HA!" Cana laughed loudly, "And no one drinks me under… the… table."

Cana turned to see a man lounging in a chair nearby. He was leaning back, so far back that the chair was balancing on it's back legs. His own legs were kicked up onto one of the tables. His boot covered feet rested beside a steaming bowl of stew and a mug of ale. He was an older man, probably in his mid thirties. It was hard to tell with all the grim and dirt that covered his bearded face. She could see his eyes clearly enough though. They held a mischievous to them that both piqued her curiosity and made her nervous. The man smirked at her before raising his mug.

"Remember me?"

Cana narrowed her eyes. There was something familiar about this guy. Did she challenge him last night? Or was it vice versa? Cana's eyes then widened to the size of saucers.

"Oh no." She muttered.

The man let out a satisfied sigh as he pulled the mug from his lips, "Oh yes." He nodded.

Cana smacked her forehead, "You've gotta be kidding me!?"

"Ain't no kidding going on around here." The man replied, "You lost last night."

"I don't lose!" Cana cried as she struggled to get to her feet. Her head was still swimming. Hell, she wouldn't have been surprised if she was still a little drunk. Which was odd, she'd never had the sauce hit her this hard before. Then again, ever since she arrived at wherever this place was, her ability to handle her liquor had diminished considerably. She found that out when she attempted to drink a whole barrel during her first night at this inn. That was still the worst hangover she had ever experienced.

And this hangover was a close second. She could practically taste the alcoholic stench on her breath. Her mouth felt incredibly dry. She just wanted to dunk her face into a bucket of water and gulp down it's entire contents. Then there was the splitting headache that felt like it was going to shatter her skull. Last but not least, she could feel her stomach rumbling. And not in a good way either. She held her hand to her mouth as a rancid belch escaped her lips.

"Ugh!" She grimaced.

"Oh, I agree." The man replied, "You look a hell of a lot better when you're still drunk."

"Fuck you." Cana replied before flipping him off.

The man smirked, "When and where sweetheart. You and I made a deal."

"We did?" Cana asked.

The man nodded, "That we did. First your gold. Then you."

Cana blinked, "Oh no! No! NO! NO! NO!" She grabbed her head and uttered a frustrated groan, "Oh but that did happen!? God dammit, Cana, you're a fucking idiot!"

"Happens to the best of us." The man reassured her, "You should hear about the first time I lost a bet like that. The stakes were not nearly as fun though. By the end of that night I was sprinting through Riverrun ass naked with both the city watch and a gang of thieves chasing me. Somehow I ended up with a gold bracelet up my arse. I'm thinking that's what they were after. Can't quite remember it properly though. I drank a two whole bottles of Dornish wine that night. Addles the brain the little bit when you do that."

Cana stared at the man completely bewildered, "Who the hell are you?" She finally asked.

"Am I really not that memorable?"

"Well I was a little drunk last night in case you forgot." Cana sassed. She folded her arms over her large chest, "Names tend to blend together when I get hammered."

The man shrugged as Cana fell into a seat at the table across from him. She buried her head in her arms, doing her best to keep the blinding sun from hitting her weary eyes. God did her head hurt! She grimaced again as she felt her stomach rumble.

"I recommend the old woman's stew." The man suggested, "Got enough shit in it to soak up all the shit in you." He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth, "Then afterwards, you shit it all right out, and you're right as rain."

"Lovely description." Cana replied sarcastically, "Seriously, who the hell are you?"

"Ah, right. Forgot that bit." The man extended a filthy hand to her, "Bronn."

Cana eyed his hand cautiously. She then sighed, took it in her own, and gave it a firm shake.

"Cana." She replied.

"Oh yes. Unlike you, I remember people I meet." Bronn replied with a smirk, "And I'd especially remember a woman like you. Not many go walking around an Inn with their tits hanging out like you do."

"My tits are not hanging out!" Cana barked back, "They're covered."

"Those little triangles count as covered?"

"Where I'm from yes."

Bronn raised his eyebrows. He was about to open his mouth to speak again when Cana cut him off.

"And no, I will not tell you where I'm from!" Cana declared.

"Damn." Bronn sighed, "You got my hopes for a moment there. I figured I was about to learn about a heaven on earth."

"Oh you are pig." Cana growled.

"And you're not?"

"Fuck you!"

"Again, when and where?"

"I-you-mother-" Cana buried her hands in her face and let out a loud, long groan of disbelief, "What the fuck am I doing?"

"From the sounds of things, you're trying to cope with the fact that you lost."

"I. Don't. Lose." Cana snarled back.

Bronn leaned towards her, "But you did." He replied, "And you made bet with me lass. And I don't let bets slide." he held out his hand, "Hand it over."

Cana frowned. At her hip, was the sack of gold she kept on her person. It was the gold she had been collecting every night since she arrived at the Inn. She was hoping to save up enough to purchase a horse. Whatever country she had ended up in was huge. Hell, it took her six days of walking before she stumbled upon this Inn. She'd need a horse in order to travel around this land and figure out just where in the world she actually was. She had asked several other travelers before about her location. But they just scoffed at her, called her and idiot, or a fool, then attempted to seduce her. She promptly beat those men halfway to death before taking their gold and betting it in drinking games so she could earn more. And everytime she played, she won.

Except for last night. Last night, was the first time in a very, very long time someone had been able to outdrink her. Honestly, it hurt her pride quite a bit.

"You gonna just stare at me or are you going to pay up?" Bronn asked.

Cana grumbled curses under her breath as she snagged the sack from her hip and threw it into Bronn's waiting hands.

"Here you go." She muttered.

Bronn raised his eyebrows, "I'm surprised. I thought I'd have to fight you for this."

Cana laughed, "If you got into a fight with me bud, you'd lose."

Bronn took a sip from his mug, "You said that about drinking too."

"Look I paid up. So would you just shut up, and let me nurse this hangover." Cana groaned.

"Sure. I'll shut up for now. But you haven't paid up fully."

 _Fuck! I hoped the gold would make him forget._

"You owe me a night, Cana Alberona." Bronn stated, "By the way, your surname is kinda queer. You from Dorne or something. Maybe Essos?"

"Dorne and Ess-what?" Cana asked.

Bronn puckered his lips, "You've got no clue where you are right now do you?"

"Oh gee!" Cana feigned surprise, "How could you have possibly figured that out? Yeah right, Sherlock!" Bronn raised an eyebrow as she spoke, "If I knew where exactly I was, would I be sitting in this inn right now?"

Bronn eyed Cana, "You've got quite the mouth on you, don't ya?"

"And it's just getting started!" Cana snapped back.

Bronn let out a long sigh, "Well, then, I supposed you don't want to see me anymore. And while you are amusing-"

"Watch it." Cana threatened.

"Would you let me finish, woman." Bronn spat back. He leaned back in his chair again, "As I was saying, while you are amusing, I have a feeling I'd run out of patience with you rather quickly. So, in the interest of both of our sanities, how about we get a room and get it over with."

Cana felt her cheeks heat up. Sex!? That was what she betted on? Oh god she was such an idiot! She thought that maybe she agreed to go on a date with this guy or something. She didn't think she'd betted on him being allowed to outright bone her if she lost. Cana buried her face in her hands and uttered another long, frustrated groan.

"Oh please." Bronn sipped his mug again, "I'm not that bad looking. Most girls say I got a rugged face. In a good way of course."

"I. Will. Not. Sleep. With. You." Cana snarled under her breath.

Bronn snorted, "I said nothing about sleeping. I said fucking. There's a difference."

Cana felt herself gag. Her legs shook for a moment as she nearly passed out at the thought of… doing it with this guy. This revolting, filthy, foul mouthed- she blinked.

 _Oh my god! I sound like such a fucking prude!_ Cana screamed in her mind. She then glared at Bronn, _It's this guy. Somehow, he knows exactly how to get under my skin._ Her mind suddenly cleared. A brilliant idea formed. One that made her grin evilly at Bronn. So evilly in fact, that he seemed a tad unsettled in his seat. He shifted a little and raised an eyebrow at her.

"You finally up to it?"

"What were the specifics of our bet, Mr. Bronn." Cana drawled, a mischievous grin on her face.

Bronn ran a hand through his hair and grinned, "That I get your gold. And that you have to spend a night with me. And you know what that means. So don't try to weasel out of it with semantics."

Cana placed a hand on her chest as she feigned offense, "Weasel? I would do no such thing!" She tilted her nose in the air, "I'm actually kinda offended that'd you'd even question my honor like that?"

"Honor?" Bronn snorted, "You're dressed like a common whore. What honor could you possibly have?"

It took everything in the brunnette not to go flying at the man. She would've probably ended his life right there and then. Or at least come close. Needless to say, after she was done, both his face and her knuckles would've been bloody. Her hand subconsciously fell to the deck of cards she kept in her pocket. Oh was she tempted to just blow this guy away with some card magic. The look on his face would be priceless.

Cana shook her head. She couldn't do that. As soon as she arrived in this place, she had felt different. Empty for some reason. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that she could not feel any magic in her. And there was no magic around her either. No buzzing sensation from her body absorbing ethernanos. Just a void in her body's magical container. It was one of the most unsettling feelings she had ever experienced and it nearly sent her into a panic , there was booze nearby. That always helped calm her down.

If she used her magic, she would be helpless in the long run. Her body would run out of power almost immediately and then she would succumb to Magic Deficiency Disease. She shuddered at the possibility. She had suffered from that nasty sickness before. And if it was serious enough, it could prove fatal for a wizard. Especially for a wizard in a land that seemingly had no ethernanos in it. And especially for a wizard that was in what appeared to be a backwards, medieval country that no doubt looked at magic with fear and suspicion. Yeah… her magic would definitely go over well with the locals. If she was lucky, she would be beheaded for being a 'witch' while she was suffering from Magic Deficiency Disease. If she was unlucky, well… medieval punishments always sounded incredibly painful. That was not something Cana was anxious to experience.

So, magic was out of the question. And while she could beat this guy to a bloody pulp, she had a feeling he would fight back. She glanced at his hip and saw both a small dirk and a sword belted to his hip. Oh yeah, he'd definitely fight back. The worn leather of his scabbard showed that this man was a fighter. That he drew his sword often and therefore he knew how to use it. If he didn't, he'd probably have ended up dead a long time ago. That fight would be nasty. No holds barred, dirty, no rules. He'd draw his blade eventually. And then she'd be screwed.

She winced, _Poor choice of words there._ She thought.

A fight was not possible. Not right now. She would have to get her vengeance another way. And judging by what he said recently, Cana knew exactly how to exasperate filthy Bronn.

"So our deal was that if I lost, I sleep-"

"Fuck." he corrected.

Cana grit her teeth, "Yup, I would have to do that... with you... for a night?"

"That's right."

Cana's lips spread into a sly smirk, "But you never said which night did you?"

Bronn's own smirk slowly fell away from his face, "You're using semantics."

"No. I'm using common sense to save my own ass." Cana replied, "You'd probably know a thing or two about that, judging by how you act. That and your drunk story of running through Riverrun naked."

"There's plenty more stories like that."

"Oh lovely." Cana sighed.

Bronn let leaned forward once again. The front legs of his chair fell to the floor with a loud clap. He then leaned forward, stared hard at Cana, and frowned.

"I know what you're getting at you know."

"Do you now?"

Bronn nodded, "You plan on using time against me."

"Oh my god, you do have a brain!" Cana gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks.

"Hey! I'm smarter than I look." Bronn pointed a finger at her, "And if you think that this will get you out of our deal, you are sadly mistaken."

"Mmm, see, I don't think so." Cana replied, "I don't really have anywhere to be right now."

That was a lie. She needed to get out of this place. Get a horse and find her way back to Fiore from whatever this country was.

 _Westeros? I think that's the name I keep hearing around this place?_ Cana wondered to herself.

"And since I have nowhere to be for the foreseeable future, I have all the time in the world." Cana kicked back in her seat, placing her feet up on her own table and placing her hands behind her head, "I can just sit in this inn, win gold drinking overconfident idiots the table, and never have to see you again once you leave."

Bronn's expression was unreadable for a moment. His mischievous eyes suddenly held a dangerous gleam to them. One that made Cana's heart quicken. He was planning something. Her eyes drifted over to the sword at his hip. Had she made him angry? If so, she figured him to be the kind of person to lash out. Fists versus swords? It would not be the first time she was put in that situation. But it would be the first time without her magic.

 _This is about to get a little hairy._ Cana gulped.

Then Bronn gave her a mischievous smirk, "Oh you're a little liar. A feisty, busty, lying brunette. Must be my lucky day."

"Eh?" Cana uttered.

"You told me last night," Bronn pointed an accusatory finger at her, "That if you won the bet, you'd get to have my horse. Now what kind of person makes that kind of bet if they are in no hurry to go anywhere?"

Cana's grin ran away from her face.

"Like I said, Cana." Bronn continued, "I'm smarter than I look. You're trying to get somewhere. And you're in a hurry. That's why you're doing all these drinking games. I wager you're trying to earn enough gold so that you get yourself a horse from the stables and be on your merry way. Now, if you were in no hurry to go anywhere, then you'd just walk along the Kingsroad. That or hitch a ride on some passing farmer's wagon. Most smallfolk get about that way anyways. But you, you're aiming for a horse. So you need to leave to go do something important. Am I right?"

Cana clenched her jaw.

"I am right." Bronn nodded. His grin widened, "So both of us are in a bind then. You don't want to fuck me, meanwhile I want to fuck you so hard that I leave your mind a mushy mess once I'm done."

"Ugh! Use different words please!" Cana cried, "If you're trying to sound sexy it ain't working."

"I'm not. I'm making a point." Bronn gulped down the last of his ale. He then gently set the mug on his table, "And from what I can tell, you are attempting to buy yourself some time. You're hoping that I give in, consider this a waste of time and a lost cause, and go about my way without a second thought." He shook his head, "No sweetheart. I don't admit defeat that easily."

"Unfortunately." Cana grumbled as she folded her arms once again.

"For you yes. And unfortunately for me, you're not in the mood. I like my women to be in the mood when I fuck em. Makes the experience much more memorable. And while I'm betting I could put in the mood if you'd let me, I doubt you'd even let me come near you right now."

"Gee, how'd you guess that?" Cana growled.

"My amazing intuition." Bronn chuckled back. He waved over at a serving girl. The girl quickly rushed over, took his mug, then provided him with another full mug, "And one more for my companion here." He said to the serving girl as he handed her a gold dragon from "Cana's" coin purse.

"Whoa! Whoa! Time out!" Cana crossed her hands in front her face, "Companion?"

Bronn took a gulp of ale, "Yes. What? Did you really think you'd be getting out of it that easily? Tell you what, I'll even compromise for ya. You fuck me on whatever night you choose, and you get to travel with me. Who knows, maybe I'll end up where you are trying to go."

"That does not sound like a good compromise to me!" Cana roared, her temper finally breaking.

Bronn just chuckled. He then grabbed the second mug of ale and held it out to Cana, "It's the only one your going to get." He took another sip, "And if you don't, well… it may get a little nasty later." He patted his sword, "I take wagers rather seriously. I always expect them to be paid in full."

Cana grit her teeth. She was definitely stuck now. She was confident in her ability to fight. But if he caught her just right with that sword even once, she would end up on the floor of the inn bleeding to death. And she did not plan on dying in some backwards, nasty country that she knew nothing about. No, she planned on dying back home in Fiore. Preferably with a barrel of beer pressed against her lips as a brawl happened in the guild hall around her. In order to make that wonderful dream a reality, she'd have to find her way home first.

And Bronn did have a horse. And he did seem to travel quite a bit.

Cana took a deep, shaking breath. Her temper was very close to breaking completely. If that happened, it would get very messy in this inn very quickly. Perhaps that would be for the best. Just as she nearly decided to take her chances with a fight, the door to the inn opened. Seven soldiers wearing blue tunics and chainmail sauntered in. All of them looked weary from travel. And all of them carried shields and swords. On their tunic was stitched a fish symbol.

 _Great. The army._ Cana thought. They would definitely not tolerate a brawl while they were trying to rest from travel.

She couldn't believe it. Bronn, this infuriating human being, just managed to best her… again! Cana snarled then glared at the man.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Cana shook her head in disgust as she snatched the mug of ale from Bronn.

Bronn grinned in triumph. He raised his mug to Cana, "To new friendships."

"To new enemies." Cana growled back before downing her mug in one gulp.

 **And chapter! Oh these two are going to have a fun relationship! Ha ha! I can't wait for it to play out! Now, I know I said I was going to have a Natsu chapter up soon. And I promise I will. I got it started, just got a little stuck for the moment. I'm sure I'll have a break through here in a bit. This chapter was picking my brain pretty much all weekend and I just had to get it down. So yeah, I would say this is the beginning of a beautiful and dysfunctional friendship.**

 **Now, as for people who would say that Cana would easily mop the floor with Bronn. Yes she would… if she had magic. I'm of the belief that while the Fairy Tail characters are exceptional physical specimens, a lot of their superhuman abilities come from their magic. That's why, when they use up their magic, their body just gives out on them in anime (Magic Deficiency Disease, knocks a wizard right out of a fight to the point where they can barely move.) Also, I do have to lessen their abilites to some extent for story purposes. Let's face it, full powered anyone from the Fairy Tail universe would wipe the floor with literally everybody in the GOT world. And then we wouldn't really have much conflict in this story. But don't worry, their magic will be coming back. It will take a little bit. But it will be coming back. And I do have a heck of a threat in place for them when that does happen (hint: It's not just the White Walkers). I won't say anymore than that. That is just my opinion on the matter. It just helps me with getting this story to at least make some sense and in no way do I intend to make the Fairy Tail characters seem weak or ineffective or anything like that (Erza is already being seen as the greatest swordsman in the North after all). I just want to create a great story for you guys. And this is the best way I know how.**

 **Anyways, let me know what you guys think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	35. Natsu V

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Natsu

Natsu placed his hands behind his head as he casually walked through the halls of Illyrio's manse. At this point he knew his way around the massive house well enough. It was pretty easy for him to find the kitchens. That was his most frequent place to visit. The cooks there were always stunned by the amount of food he could eat. Oftentimes they would attempt to kick him out before he cleaned out the storeroom. If that happened, well Natsu would be dragged out kicking and screaming before resigning himself to his favorite snack, a torch. Although he did heed Dany's advice about avoiding eating fire in front of other people. For some reason, people were not very trusting in this city. And for that reason, Dany said if he ate fire around the wrong people he could be put into danger. And she didn't want to lose a friend like that.

Natsu couldn't fault her for the concern. His magic was still acting funny. So if he actually got into an all out brawl with someone, he honestly wasn't sure how he'd fare. Of course, he believed he would figure out a way to win. The only exceptions he had found to that mindset were Erza and Gildarts. Gildarts because… well the old geezer was Gildarts! Natsu was slowly being convinced that Gramps was the only person alive that could possibly best that guy. That didn't stop him from trying though. As for Erza, well Natsu firmly believed he'd surpass her one day. If there was an ultimate goal for him, besides finding Igneel, it would be passing her up in power. The thought of reaching that goal made him shiver with excitement. He couldn't wait to fight her again. Maybe next time, he'd win for a change.

 _Next time…_ Natsu paused in his walk. His arms fell to his sides and he turned to look out a window to the city of Pentos.

It still amazed Natsu every time he looked out at this seemingly ancient city. He could see buildings everywhere. Gardens and vines covered most of the spare space. Roads made of brick and cobblestone criscrossed through the buildings, creating a nearly impossible maze of dead ends, crossroads, and destinations. He could smell new flowers blooming in the distance. Then the smell of bread being baked in the city's market district hit his nose, causing his mouth to water. He had no doubt that this place had to be some sort of paradise for its people. Everyone seemed so happy on the streets, and in Illyrio's palace.

 _When I see Lucy and the others again, I'm gonna have to show them this place._ He grinned to himself, _Erza will want to go see what armor she can find. Lucy will go key hunting, like she normally does._ Natsu blinked, _Come to think of it? Would there a be a key here? And where exactly is here? I still can't find Fiore on a map._ Natsu sighed, _I wonder how everyone else is doing back home?_ He then gulped, _I wonder how Lucy is doing with that Red Lady?_ His eyes widened, _OH NO HAPPY! My little buddy is gonna go hungry without me!_

Natsu began to panic. _How do I get home? For that matter, where is home!? Dammit, think Natsu!_

He took a deep breath. He remembered something Erza had told him. In a crisis it was better to remain calm and think things through. So that was exactly what he was going to do. His brow furrowed and his foot tapped against the polished tiles beneath him as he wondered. Then he sighed and shrugged.

 _I'll figure it out eventually._

And when he did, he'd find Lucy and the others. He'd show them around this city. He'd introduce them to Dany and- Natsu narrowed his eyes.

 _Was that guy named Jonah Morton? No that wasn't it-_

"My lady it's much to hot!" He heard a servant cry from a room nearby.

Natsu quirked up and sniffed the air. He then grinned. He recognized that scent coming from the room. It was Dany. Maybe she'd want to talk some more. He did enjoy talking to her. For some reason, he felt very relaxed around her. And she always seemed to smile more when he was around. Natsu liked putting smiles on people's faces. Especially on the faces of new friends.

He quickly turned the corner and saw a large room with double doors opening wide. A servant girl, one of the ones Illyrio gave to Dany, was shuffling away. Just before the door closed, Natsu slipped his hand in and stopped it from shutting. He then smiled and burst through.

"Yo Dany!" He waved.

"NATSU!" She shrieked.

Natsu saw a square shape hurtling towards him. His eyes widened and he quickly ducked as a solid block of soap soared over his head and collided with the wall behind him.

"Hey what was… that… for."

Natsu's eyes widened and his pupils shrank.

Dany was standing in a steaming bathtub. It was easily big enough to fit six or seven grown men in it. And she was-

"Huh." Natsu commented, "Going for a swim?" He asked.

"NO!" Dany roared before she quickly covered her chest with her arms and sank down into the piping hot water.

Natsu jumped as Dany roared at him. He stayed frozen in place. He could feel those lavender eyes glaring at him. This was unlike Dany. She almost never got angry at him. Then again, he did just walk in on her in an interesting position. Maybe now wasn't the best time to chat with her?

 _Nah!_

Without another thought, Natsu shrugged his black waistcoat from his shoulders before rewrapping his scaly white scarf around his neck.

"N-Natsu?" Dany questioned quietly.

Her face turned bright red as the pink haired boy suddenly jumped into the bath with her.

"Ah!" Natsu sighed as he leaned back against the stone tub, "Wow! This water actually is kinda warm."

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Dany hissed, doing her best not shout anymore. The last thing she wanted now was someone seeing her and Natsu like this. And if someone told Viserys about this. She shuddered to think what he would do to someone as kind and innocent as Natsu.

"Hm?" Natsu gave her puzzled looked, "Well, I haven't exactly had a bath in a couple weeks. And Igneel always told me that a dragon must look their best."

"S-so instead of just going to the bath house, you came here? To mine?" Dany asked, her voice filled with hesitation.

"Well, that wasn't exactly the original plan I had in mind. I heard someone talking to ya so then I came here cause…" Natsu blinked and rubbed his chin, "Come to think of it, I totally forgot why I came here."

"So you just stripped naked and jumped in the bath with me while not knowing why?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Natsu replied with a toothy grin.

Dany stared stunned at the pink haired boy as he lounged back in his seat, the steam nearly clouding her vision of him as he sat in the tub. She gulped to herself.

 _Well, he isn't exactly going away, is he?_ She thought, _Is he really that dense?_

Dany let out a long sigh then finally leaned back against the other side of the bath. She kept her arms cross over her chest. The last thing she wanted was Natsu taking a peak at her. Especially on a day like today. Her mind wandered to what was waiting for her once she exited this water.

Viserys had sold her. Sold her like a head of cattle. To a barbarian no less. A man who didn't know anything about Westeros, cared not for the kingdoms her father once ruled, and most likely cared not for her. She was to be nothing more than a signature for Viserys. A part of a deal that would give him his crown of gold. She sank deeper into the bath until her mouth settled into the water. Her eyes drooped and she could feel some tears bubbling to the surface. Without thinking, she reached up and wiped them away with the back of her wrist.

"Hey Dany?"

"What is it, Natsu?" She asked quietly. She looked across at him and saw him frantically searching the tub for something. He then looked over at the bar of soap sitting across the room. The one Dany chucked at his head.

"Do you mind grabbing the soap?"

Dany's face turned dark red, "I-I-I-"

"What's wrong?" Natsu asked.

"Um?" Dany suddenly found her eyes wandering. She was shocked by Natsu's physical appearance. He was incredibly fit for a young man. His muscles sleek and strong. She noticed a deep scar or two on his torso. She could only imagine what kind of monster or creature could've given those to a man who literally bent fire to his will.

"Yo Dany?" Natsu snapped his fingers. Dany blinked as she snapped out of her daydreams.

"Wh-what?"

"Something on your mind?" He asked.

Dany's eyes fell and she tucked her chin into her chest. The tears were starting to come up again. She was being ripped away from everything she knew. She was being given away, to a man who was so foreign to her that all she knew about him was his name. Wasn't marriage supposed to be about love? Isn't that what all the tales she heard as a child told? So why was this happening to her?

She knew why. Viserys needed an army. Without an army, they would never get home. She would never get to see a home that she had no memories of. What was Westeros even like? Were there really people weaving Dragon banners in secret, behind the Usurper's back? Did the people even really care about her and her brother? The more she lived in this world, the more she experience, the more she doubted that her and Viserys were really that important at all. They were only important to those who deemed them important to their own plans.

The only time she ever felt truly free, truly at home, was at the house with the red door. There she was in the company of people who actually seemed to care about her. People like old Ser Willem Darry. A good knight who long ago passed on into the next life. He was a sickly old man when they left Dragonstone (according to what her brother told her). He only grew more ill when they reached the house with the red door in Braavos.

Then he died. Dany felt her heart sink at the memory. The memory of Ser Darry's old hands, soft like leather, losing all their warmth and growing cold to the touch. It was the most she had ever cried in her life. Ever since, there had been no home for her. And she doubted that the Dothraki would be a the welcoming home she always desired.

She finally looked back up at Natsu. There was concern in his dark eyes. He genuinely was worried about her. That shocked her. He was the newest member of Illyrio's household. He barely knew her. And yet here was Natsu Dragneel, sharing her bath, asking if she was ok? The only person today to ask her how she felt.

"Yes Natsu." She whispered back, "I have a lot on my mind right now."

Natsu arched an eyebrow, "It's that Khal guy isn't it?"

Dany sniffled then nodded.

"So… today's that day then? Isn't it?" He asked, that wide grin no longer on his face.

Dany nodded, "I-" She gulped, "I do not think I can do this, Natsu. I- I really don't want to do this."

Natsu glided across the water and sat down beside her. Dany hardly noticed. She was too wrapped up in her own worries to notice.

"So why are you?" He asked simply, "Why don't you just say no?"

Dany sighed, "It's not that simple."

Natsu blinked then smacked himself on the head, "Oh right. You're trying to get back to your home. You and your brother."

Dany nodded, "That's right. And Khal Drogo has the army my brother needs to take our home back. The only way Khal Drogo will give him that army, is if I marry the Khal."

Natsu frowned, "That sounds messed up."

Dany snorted. If one was to sum up this entire stay at Illyrio's palace into one simple sentence, then no one could have said it better.

"You have no idea." Dany shuddered.

"Well, so what you're saying is, you don't think you got a choice?" Natsu continued.

Dany nodded, "I don't. I never did. I must do-" She took a deep breath, her arms fell to her sides, "I must do my duty to my family. I am one of the last Targaryens. And if this brings my House… my family back to Westeros, then it is what I must do."

"But do _you_ want to go back to Westeros?"

Dany gave Natsu a shocked look, "O-of course I do! Westeros is the home of my people. It is where I-" She bowed her head and took a long breath. Did she really want to go back to Westeros? What was there for her anyways? As far as she knew, there was nothing there. Nothing but the bones of her ancestors and the ghosts of what might have been. If her father had not lost the war; if her brother, Rhaegar, had defeated the Usurper at the Trident; if her mother had lived. Dany felt the tears slowly dripping down her cheeks.

She felt a hot thumb rub over her cheek, wiping away the tears.

"Hey, you can't cry now."

Dany glanced at Natsu, "And why not?"

"Well, if you are going to go through with this. Then you're gonna have to get strong." He replied, "From what I hear, this Khal guy is a warrior. Warriors aren't exactly softies, if you get what I mean. And if there is one type of person I definitely know, it's warriors." He grinned at her, "I like to think of myself as one, kinda. A Dragon Slayer- Fire Wizard- Warrior guy."

Dany let a laugh escape her lips. Somehow, he always found a way to brighten her day. That innocence of his, he was going to be able to keep it for a long time to come.

And she was going to lose hers today.

"And… well, if you don't go through with this," Natsu stood up in the bath, pulling Dany up with him. Not once did his eyes leave hers, "Then maybe you could come with me to my home!" He suggested with a toothy grin.

Dany's eyes widened, "Your home?"

"Yeah!" Natsu smiled, "Fairy Tail is the most welcoming place you'll ever visit. We've got all sorts of people there. Like Erza! And Lucy!"

Dany smiled, "Isn't Erza the one that always beats you up?"

Natsu scowled and he crossed his arms over his bare chest, "Well… not always. I-" A defeated looked came over his face, "I landed a punch once."

Dany laughed out loud. She stepped out of the bathwater and grabbed a towel for herself and Natsu. She tossed him the soft piece of cloth before she wrapped her own around her body.

"And other than Erza and Lucy, who else is in your home?" Dany asked, "What kind of people are there?"

"All kinds!" Natsu exclaimed as he dried himself. He didn't care one bit that he was nude in front of Dany. He then blinked and furrowed his brow.

Dany looked at him perplexed. Did he have a stomach ache or something? She then saw steam rising from where the water had beaded on his body.

"C'mon," Natsu grit his teeth, "Hotter." He then gasped and lurched forward.

Dany rushed towards him and caught him before he could fall.

"What were you doing!?" Dany gasped.

"Trying to dry off." Natsu replied.

"Well, don't do that again! Remember, your magic isn't working right now. And the last thing we need is someone seeing it. Who knows what my brother would do if he found out how powerful you really were."

"Heh," Natsu laughed, "He tries anything." He smacked his fist into his open palm, "I'll knock his block off."

Dany just shook her head, "You won't do anything you fool." She replied as she helped him stand upright once again, "You will just stay back. And if he tries anything, you let me deal with it. Got it?"

Natsu stared back at Dany. He could see the conviction in her eyes. They reminded him of Erza's eyes. Whenever Erza would give him an order, or tell him not to do something, there was that same burning fury in them. Although, unlike Erza, Dany's fury didn't scare him. If anything, it made him smile more.

"Gotcha!" He gave her a thumbs up.

The door to the Dany's bathing room began to open. Neither noticed as the pair smiled at each. A servant girl shuffled in with a porcelain bowl filled with cold water.

"Lady Daenerys I-"

The servant girl looked up and saw Natsu and Dany staring at each other. Both Dany and Natsu glanced over at the servant girl. All three blinked at each other. Then Dany's face turned redder than a tomato. The servant girl's face went ashen. And Natsu was just as confused as before.

"H-hey? What's everyone freaking out about!?"

….

The sun was beginning to set when they arrived. Khal Drogo's Khalasar. Natsu stood quietly among Illyrio's servants as tens of thousands of horsemen, women, and children stopped before the gates of Pentos. Illyrio had set the wedding up outside the city walls. Much to the relief of the citizens of Pentos. Natsu couldn't figure out why the people were so afraid of these guys. From what he had seen, they didn't appear so tough. He had fought, and beaten, tougher.

Then, when the wedding was underway; when the drinking and feasting began; Natsu slowly began to understand why the people of Pentos feared the Dothraki.

His first clue was when he saw a group of Dothraki women wildly dancing around a smoldering fire. As they danced, a group of Dothraki men, some with long ponytails, others with just a small bun on the back of their heads, marched up to the woman and roughly grabbed them. Natsu wasn't sure what they were doing at first. But the sounds the women were making combined with the triumphant cries of the men led Natsu to believe that something strange was going on.

Then there was the scuffle that broke out when two men wanted to stand behind one woman. The pair exchanged words. Natsu thought that'd they would just finish their argument and leave. His jaw fell open when one of the men drew his Arakh, the curved blade of a Dothraki Screamer, and slashed the man's stomach open. Natsu watched horrified as the man's intestines spilled out onto the grass. And while he stared on in shock, the other Dothraki shrugged it off.

Natsu looked away from the grisly scene and up to the high seats, where Dany, Illyrio, Viserys, and Khal Drogo observed the festivities. He could see Dany's face pale at the sight of a man being gutted like that. Viserys seemed more disgusted than afraid. Illyrio remained stone faced. And the Khal laughed before congratulating the victor in his native tongue.

"These guys are insane." Natsu breathed.

"Oh yes." A gruff voice replied beside him. Natsu turned to see a man in a fancy, green doublet with a bear stitched onto it beside him. He recognized the man instantly.

"Oh hey," Natsu grabbed the man's hand, "How's it going, Jonah!?"

"It's Jorah." Jorah Mormont snatched his hand away from Natsu, "And today could be better."

Natsu sighed, "I'll say." He glanced over at the body of the dead Dothraki man being dragged away from the other dancers, "How could someone do something like that?"

"The Dothraki are warriors." Jorah replied in a matter of fact tone, "Only the strong earn their respect. And only the strong survive among the Dothraki. If you aren't strong enough to take what you want, then you will be killed. That is how they have lived for thousands of years."

Natsu furrowed his brow. He could feel anger bubbling to the surface. That was just a cruel way to live! How could another human being just kill someone else over something as trivial as dancing with a girl? He grit his teeth together. If he saw that again, he'd intervene. They would get a taste of his fire and his fist.

"I would recommend staying out of it, boy." Jorah advised calmly, "You do not appear to be a warrior. You would get killed if you tried to get in the way." He folded his arms, "Besides, the deaths we are seeing are a good thing."

"How is people dying a good thing?" Natsu growled.

Jorah glanced over at the pink haired boy, "It means they are having the time of their lives." Jorah took a breath, "A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair."

Natsu's eyes narrowed as he saw another fight beginning to start. This time three men were arguing over a woman who was half naked near the fire. Natsu could feel his teeth creaking as all three men drew their arakhs and shouted at each other.

"Don't do it boy." Jorah said.

Natsu didn't hear him. His legs moved without him thinking. He could feel his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Behind him, Jorah remained still. The knight from Bear Island shook his head.

"That fool is going to get himself killed." He glanced over and saw Dany jumping to her feet, her lavender eyes focused solely on Natsu as he marched towards the fighting Dothraki. Her normally beautiful face was pale and filled with fear. Jorah closed his eyes, "Gods dammit." He growled before he quickly followed Natsu.

Natsu broke into a run when he was just feet away from the three raging Dothraki Screamers. He drew his fist back and called upon his magic. All three dothraki men turned just in time to see him flying at them, his face twisted with fury. Flames sparked in Natsu's fist.

" **FIRE DRAGON'S IRON FIST!"**

Natsu buried his fist into the stomach of the closest Dothraki man, an older screamer with a braid that reached the nape of his neck. His flames licked at the man's flesh, burning him almost instantly. The warrior screamed in pain before falling away from Natsu, his own hands clutching the charred wound. Behind Natsu, Jorah stopped rushing after him and stared dumbfounded at the boy.

"Who's next?" Natsu growled as he eyed the two remaining Screamers, "You wanna keep fighting! Or do I gotta force you to stop!"

Natsu could feel some fatigue settling in. He brushed it aside. This was a fight, and he would be damned if he lost a fight to these monsters! His eyes narrowed at the other two Dothraki Screamers. This time Natsu waited. The pair twirled their arakhs in their hands. Then they began to circle him.

"NATSU!" Dany screamed at him.

Natsu glanced over at Dany and he hesitated. She was afraid. Her face nearly ashen as she stared at the wounded Dothraki warrior. The man was writhing in dirt, his hands wrapped around blackened flesh. She felt a rough, strong hand grip her wrist and pull her back down into her seat. It was the hand of Khal Drogo. The massive Dothraki warrior rose to his feet and descended down from his seat towards Natsu. As soon as Khal Drogo stood, the pair of Dothraki Screamers stopped circling Natsu and quickly backed away form him. Their heads were bowed as their Khal marched up to the pink haired boy.

" _Fin are yeri, rakh?"_ The mighty Khal rumbled as he approached Natsu.

Natsu turned his furious eyes towards the great warrior. The music from Illyrio's musicians had gone silent. The Dothraki drums had stopped booming. The dancing women had frozen in place as their Khal stepped towards the man who commanded the power of fire. Some of the other warriors glanced fearfully at Natsu before moving out of Khal Drogo's way. Others glared hatefully at the pink haired boy and gladly allowing their Khal to get near him.

"What'd ya say, meathead!?" Natsu shook his fist at the Khal, "I don't exactly speak gibberish!"

Jorah's jaw hung open. He glanced around the boy and saw some Screamers readying their weapons. The Khal's bloodriders, the screamers that swore their lives to him, were drawing their arakhs. They were ready to defend their Khal if needed. Jorah doubted they would become involved if a fight occurred. The Khal was a warrior of unmatched skill in Essos. Jorah had witnessed his prowess first hand. In his experience, few could match the great Khal. He thought that even the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne would struggled against the mighty Khal. There was no way this foolish boy could back down the man.

Then again, he did just punch a high ranking Dothraki Screamer with a flaming fist. And that man still had not gotten up.

Jorah glanced back at Dany. She was being held down in her seat by her brother's strong grip, but Jorah could see that she wanted to rush down there and protect the boy. But why? Jorah turned his eyes back to Natsu as the boy stared up at Khal Drogo. Why is Danerys' so concerned about this foolish boy?

"Natsu Dragneel." Jorah spoke. Both Natsu and Drogo glanced over at the Westerosi knight. Jorah took a hesitant breath then continued, "He asked for your name." he told Natsu calmly.

"He did?" Natsu looked back up at Drogo's intimidating face. "Well why didn't he just say so in the first place?"

Jorah smacked his forehead, "He did."

"Yeah sure!" Natsu held out his hand to Drogo, his fury now suddenly lost as he stared down the deadliest Khal in the Great Grass Sea, "Natsu Dragneel!"

The Khal stared down at Natsu's hand. He ignored it and strode over to the wounded Screamer. The Khal withdrew his own arakh and reached down towards the man's head.

"H-hey!" Natsu cried, "What do you think you're-" Drogo swung, and cut the man's braid from his head, "Doing?" Natsu finished quietly.

Drogo looked back at Natsu and tossed the boy the severed braid. The Khal then silently marched back to his seat beside Dany. He held out his hand to her and she hesitantly took it. As she was guided down from her seat by Khal Drogo, her eyes stared over at Natsu. He had no idea how afraid she really was in that moment. But he gave her the widest grin and showed her the ponytail.

"Guess I won, huh?"

Dany remained emotionless. Although Natsu could now smell the fear coming from her. This was the moment she was terrified of. She was about to be alone with Khal Drogo. Natsu's grin fell away. His dark eyes followed Dany as she was marched away from the wedding.

"Be strong, Dany." Natsu said under his breath.

He could see a small tear forming in her eye. She then turned her head away from him, and submitted to Khal Drogo's will.

 **And chapter! A bit of a new perspective on Dany's wedding day! Hope it was entertaining. It took me a long while to whip this one up. Natsu's arc is proving to be my biggest challenge so far (still can't figure out why!? Argh… it's so frustrating!). But I believe this chapter came out nicely. Anyways, let me know what you all think! As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	36. Erza XII

A Song of Fairies  
Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Erza

Erza sat quietly inside of Winterfell's empty courtyard. The night air was somehow even colder now than any previous night. She tucked the fur cloak she had around her armor tightly over her arms. The cold was biting hard at her skin tonight. It's relentless teeth and claws nipping and slashing at her, causing goosebumps to form and her body to shiver occasionally. She still wasn't used to the damn cold of this world.

Yet she was the only one, besides a few guards that patrolled the walls, that was outdoors at this hour. Everyone else stayed near their hearths in the castle. Warm as anyone could be. But, she enjoyed the outdoors despite this world's harsher climate. It helped clear her mind. The crisp air woke her up, even when she was at her weariest. It helped her stay sharp, focused, two things Erza desperately needed right now.

The morning had been rough to say the least. Erza and Jon were the first to make it to the castle after receiving the news from Jory that Bran Stark had fallen from the Burned Tower. The pair had not even jumped off of their horses when Arya, Sansa, and Rickon came rushing towards them. All of them teary eyed and terrified. When she saw the children in such a state, Erza became convinced that something terrible had indeed happened to their brother. She had hoped that Bran merely slipped from a low hand hold. Maybe he had just sprained his ankle?

Then again, would Jory been so out of breath if Bran had merely sprained his ankle? Would Lord Stark had spurred his horse so fiercely if something terrible had not happened to Bran? She should have known this was the case. Damn her optimism.

Erza laid her head back against the stone walls of Winterfell. The cold touch of stone against her bare neck made shivers crawl up her spine. It only kept her more awake, more alert. She needed to be awake and alert. One of the Stark children stood on death's door with only old Maester Luwin and the gods keeping him in the world of the living. Erza didn't particularly believe in the gods of this world, new or old. But if they were real, she hoped above all hope that they spared Bran.

He was such an innocent boy. Always smiling, always running about, ready for adventure. A lot like Arya in many respects, though he did exercise a bit more caution than the wild wolf of the family did. When Erza saw him lying in his chambers, his face a sickly pale, chest barely moving up and down-

She gulped and felt some tears beginning to mist in her eyes. Tears that she quickly wiped away with the back of her hand.

She should have been here, in Winterfell. Robb and Jon had Lord Stark with them. They would have been completely safe. The little ones needed her here to look out for them when Jory and the guard could not. After all, the guards didn't know which places Arya loved to sneak off too. They didn't know the secret set of foot and hand holds that Bran used to scale the godswood before clambering up onto the walls and roofs of the castle. She knew all of that. It was her current job after all. To protect and guide the Stark children when Lord Stark could not do so himself.

 _And I've already failed._ Erza thought to herself.

The sound of the castle doors groaning open then creaking shut caught Erza's attention. She cast a weary glance over to the castle door. Jon was on his way out to see her. She saw the grim look on his face and her heart sank. This was not going to be good news.

He did not speak as he strode up to her. Lord Stark's bastard simply took a deep breath before sliding down the wall beside Erza, his own head leaning up against the frozen stones behind him. The pair sat there quietly for a moment. Neither wanting to start what both considered to be a dreaded conversation. Eventually, it was Erza who caved in.

"How is he?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Jon rubbed his mouth with a gloved hand, "He's-" He paused as he glanced at Erza. Her eyes were burrowing into him. Pleading with him. Begging for good news. Jon ran a hand through his regrowing beard, "According to Maester Luwin, Bran is going to live."

Erza's eyes widened. Bran was alright! He was going to live! She felt relief flood through her. The stress that had caused knots to form in her shoulders was lifted away. Suddenly she felt very drowsy. Not even the cold could keep her eyes from falling halfway shut.

"That's good to hear." Erza breathed.

She heard Jon gulp. Her stomach twisted into a knot.

"That is not all though." Jon continued. He looked directly at Erza, "Bran is… Bran is a cripple now."

"Wh-what?"

Jon took a sharp breath, "Maester Luwin says Bran is never going to be able to walk again. His-" He choked for a moment, "The fall broke his back. He says the fact that Bran lived at all is a miracle from the gods. But he will never walk again."

Erza could see some tears forming in Jon's eyes. The young man fought with everything he had to keep them at bay. Seeing Jon in such a state caused Erza's own eyes to well up. Jon was always a stoic figure in public. He was so much like Lord Stark. Quiet, reserved, yet firm and strong. To see him look so broken, so sorrowful, it was not natural.

"So that means-"

"It means he is never going to ride a horse again." Jon cut her off, "He is never going to be able to run with his Direwolf again. He is never going to grow up to be a knight like he always dreamed of."

"You don't know that, Jon." Erza replied quietly.

"I don't!" Jon jumped to his feet, "What do you mean by that!? Bran is crippled. His legs will not work!"

"But that won't stop him. I know it." Erza replied calmly.

Jon took a deep breath, "Let me guess. Someone you know has been crippled before and managed to achieve what they always dreamed of achieving?" He stared hard at Erza, "Back in your world I assume? In your guild? Your fantasy land!?"

"Fantasy land?" Erza narrowed her eyes dangerously at Jon, "I'll have you know that where I come from it is not all sunshine and rainbows-"

"I don't care!" Jon barked back, "We don't have magic in this world! We cannot achieve the impossible like the people of your world can! So whoever it was that managed to survive being a cripple, congratulations to them. But they are of no help here! Bran's life will be spent in a damn chair! And…" Jon felt his chin beginning to quiver, "And there is nothing we can do about it."

Jon wavered and fell to the ground once again. This time his shoulders began to tremble as he quietly cried. Erza froze at first. She then hesitantly got up then knelt down beside her friend.

"And who told you that there was such a thing as impossible?" She asked.

Jon took a shuddering breath, "I-"

"Let me finish." Erza said sharply, "Just six months ago, a wizard from another world was considered impossible, right?" Jon did not reply, "Just a few months ago, you being beaten by me in a sword fight was considered impossible. Just a couple days ago, Lord Stark being named hand to the King was considered impossible." She turned his face towards her, "I don't know about you, but I count three impossible things that have occurred. And those are just the big events."

"Those are not the same as someone becoming a cripple then miraculously being cured." Jon replied.

Erza frowned. Jon attempted to look away, but her strong hands kept his face staring at her own.

"Look at my eyes." Erza instructed, "What do you see?"

Jon quirked an eyebrow, puzzled. "I see… I see your eyes."

"Do they look real to you?" She asked.

Jon's tears began to dry as he grew even more confused. He simply nodded his head.

"Then I suppose it would surprise you to know that only one is my real eye." Erza pointed at her left eye, "This one is real." She then pointed at her right eye, "This one is not."

Jon's eyes slowly widened.

"Do you remember, when we were up in the Burned Tower?" Erza continued, "We were talking about our pasts."

Jon nodded, "You told me that you were an orphan. That the village you lived in was raided and you were taken as a slave."

He could see Erza flinch ever so slightly as he brought up the painful memory. Nevertheless, she kept her calm.

"Aye. Well, when I was enslaved, I attempted to escape with some of my friends. We got caught because-" She choked for a moment then took a deep breath, doing her best to compose herself, "because I was weak and afraid." Jon could see she was struggling as she reopened old wounds, "As my punishment, the slavers took my right eye."

Jon's eyes widened in shock.

"So, when I say that even Bran can become great despite what has happened to him, you better believe it. Because at one point, I was what you consider crippled. I could hardly see. Yet here I am. A wizard in a world without magic. And I see everything as clearly as you do." Erza stood and turned on her heal. It was getting late. There was no point staying out here all night long. She needed to rest if she was going to properly look after the Stark children. Besides, once dawn came, she would start her training again. And she would work twice as hard at it.

 _I may not have my magic, but I'll be damned if that prevents me from protecting those I care about._ She thought. Before she strode away, she glanced back at Jon Snow.

"So, Jon Snow. What do you think is impossible now?"

….

She followed the torchlight towards her room. It was near the younger children's rooms. Lord Stark had made certain of that half a year ago. When he showed it to her, he said: "If you are to protect my children, then you must be near them". Erza's jaw tightened as she remembered that night. If she was to protect, she had to be near them. She turned a corner just as the door to Bran's room was opening then closing. There, in the dim light of the corridor, stood Lord Eddard Stark. His eyes had bags beneath them. He looked ten years older than he actually was. His shoulders were hunched and his lips pressed tight. Erza paused beside him.

"How is he?" She asked.

Lord Stark swallowed hard, "He'll live. But… he will be a cripple the rest of his life."

Erza nodded, "That's what I heard." Lord Stark's eyes flicked up at her face, "Jon told me." Erza finished.

"Ah." Lord Stark replied, "I see."

Erza glanced behind Lord Stark at Bran's door. She moved towards the door knob, but Lord Stark got in her way.

"I don't think that's a good idea." He said stiffly.

"Why not?" Erza asked, "I care just as much for his well being as you do."

"I know, it's just-" Lord Stark took a deep breath, "Catelyn is in there. She is not taking this very well."

"I'd be surprised if she was." Erza muttered.

"You misunderstand." Lord Stark continued, "She is not taking Bran's fall well. She is.." He grimaced, "Lashing out. Especially at those she feels could have prevented his fall."

Erza pursed her lips, "You mean she blames me."

Lord Stark fervently shook his head, "No." He took a long breath, "Not just you." He paused, his eyes looked back at Bran's closed door. He then waved at Erza to follow him.

The Lord of Winterfell and the red haired bodyguard walked quietly down the hall for several minutes. They had even passed by Erza's own room. But judging from Lord Stark's expressions, and his eerie silence, he needed to discuss something with Erza. She assumed it had to do with Bran's fall. Erza could see the strain it was putting on Lord Stark. His normally stone like face seemed far more wrinkled. Stress seemed to cling to him like a massive shadow. It's overbearing weight shoving him down further and further until he felt hollow. Erza could see that in his eyes. Lord Stark was exhausted. Not just from worry over Bran, but due to other unforeseen circumstances that he had yet to share.

After several more silent moments, Erza spoke up.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, my lord." Erza said.

Lord Stark stopped and glanced back at the red haired warrior.

"Bran's fall was not your fault." She finished.

His dark eyes burrowed into her, "And it was not yours either." He reminded her. It was like he saw exactly what she was thinking.

Erza did blame herself somewhat. She couldn't help but think of what would have happened if she had actually been present by Bran's side. Would she had been able to keep him from climbing that damn tower? Would she have caught him when he fell? It's not like she couldn't do that. She had caught people who fell from greater heights than the burned tower.

 _Then again that was with help from my magic._ She reminded herself.

"I can't help but think that it might be." Erza said quietly, "You asked me to protect your children. And now one of them is on death's door. Meanwhile, I was out hunting with you and the King." Erza shook her head, "I hope you can see how that makes me feel at least somewhat guilty."

"You are guilty of nothing." Lord Stark replied sharply, "You had no control over this. None of us did. Bran fell. As hard as it is to believe, he did fall. And thanks to Maester Luwin and the grace of the gods, he will live."

Erza nodded, "Still." Lord Stark arched an eyebrow as she bowed at the waist and lowered her head, "Please forgive me for failing in my duty."

The Lord of Winterfell gave her a puzzled look before shaking his head and gripping her shoulders.

"Stand tall, Erza Scarlet." He ordered, "You are one of the finest warriors in my service. We may have had our differences and conflicts. But your loyalty to my family, to my children, I have never, and will never question. You are much more like the North than you may think. You hold loyalty, honor, and duty above almost all else." Lord Stark ran his fingers through his beard. Erza could see some flecks of grey starting to appear beneath his chin. "With those qualities in mind, I feel I can share this information with you."

Erza raised an eyebrow, "Information?" She was perplexed. They had hardly been on speaking terms since Gray's sentencing to the Night's Watch. Yet here was Lord Stark telling her that because of who she was, he could trust her with something. But what could that be? And why?

"King Robert wants me to be his next Hand." Lord Stark stated.

Erza's eyes widened, "Oh!" She murmured, "That's… a big deal."

"A bit more than a big deal, but yes, it is rather… sudden and momentous." The Lord of Winterfell found a small bench along the hall wall and took a seat. Erza remained standing, "I planned on taking his offer. I would become his Hand. In exchange, Sansa would eventually marry Prince Joffrey and become queen of westeros one day."

Erza's jaw fell open. Sansa Stark, Queen of Westeros!? Erza did not doubt that Sansa was a proper lady. She was uptight at times. But a queen? Erza shook her head. Sansa's head was filled with too many fantasies and daydreams for her to be a queen. She needed some growing up to do still. And it was apparent that Lord Stark felt the same. He didn't mention the King's proposal with the sort of enthusiasm one would expect from such an honor. Instead, he spoke of it as if he was whispering and ill gotten secret. As if it wasn't a great honor, but a great terror for him.

"So what would that mean?" Erza asked.

"It means that I would have to go to King's Landing with Robert." Lord Stark explained, "Sansa would come with me. And perhaps one of the other children. I would take some of my household guard. And then we would be citizens of King's Landing."

"You don't sound very happy about that." Erza remarked.

Lord Stark snorted, "The last time I was in that city," His gaze suddenly seemed distant. He was seeing something else. Memories that plagued him to this very day, "It was burning." He continued, "There were bodies in the street. Soldiers and small folk alike. Blood ran through the gutters like rain water. And a golden lion on a red field waved over the Red Keep while the red dragon lay in tatters in the mud and blood."

Erza's eyes widened. He was talking about the ending of Robert's rebellion. The horrific event known as the Sacking of King's Landing. The day when Lord Tywin Lannister finally chose a side in the conflict. And because of his choice, Lord Tywin's daughter was now queen, and the Targaryens were practically extinct. The accounts of that day had made Erza's stomach flip when she had first read about them. To think that knights would so easily be slay small children and their mothers, it was unfathomable for her.

"And now," Lord Stark frowned, "Now I've been invited back to that same city. And when I arrive, I won't be the Lord of the North come to free the Seven Kingdoms in the name of Robert Baratheon. I will be the Lord of the North, Eddard Stark, foreigner to the South and disruptor of the corrupt." He stared hard at Erza, "I do not delude myself about that city. It is a stink filled pit of corruption and political backstabbing. Two things that I cannot stand." He ran a hand through his thick hair, "Gods how I hate politics! Here in the North, politics usually is moderating an argument between two lords, deciding who is right, and if the other party disagrees you kick their teeth in if necessary."

Erza couldn't help but chuckle at the description. It sounded very much like how Master Makarov ran Fairy Tail. Gramps could be a calm moderator until he was pushed over the limit by his 'brats'. Then he would bash everyone to the ground, making sure that everyone understood the rules. But unlike the North, her guildmates would just ignore those rules anyways.

She smiled at the comparison. Lord Stark was by no means like Master Makarov. He held justice to a much higher standard than her guildmaster did. If Master Makarov were the one deciding Gray's fate, he would not have cared how other Lords or Ladies saw his actions. Gray was innocent, and he would have been pardoned. Gramps was also nowhere near as cold or dour as Lord Stark. There was just this seriousness to Lord Stark that almost sucked the life out of everyone in the castle at times. It still amazed Erza that Arya, Bran, and Rickon were such fun loving children. Perhaps they just haven't been exposed to the horrors of this world like Lord Stark had been. Hell, Erza had only read about the horrors of the many wars this land had experienced over the years, and even she felt her mood grow sour when she thought about the suffering they caused.

There was now a question nagging Erza's brain. If Lord Stark was to become Hand to the King, then King Robert would make it known to the world in a few days time. So why suddenly draw her to the side and tell her this. Was she now a confidant for him? Similar to Maester Luwin's relationship with Lord Stark? She doubted that very much. There was still a sense of animosity between the two. Lord Stark's refusal to pardon Gray, much less understand the situation he and Erza were in still infuriated the red head.

"Why are you telling me this?" Erza asked.

"Hm?"

"Why me? Why not Maester Luwin? Or Lady Catelyn? Hell, why not Jory or Ser Rodrik?"

"I'm telling you this because it will impact your search for your family." Lord Stark replied quietly.

Erza's eyes widened in realization. She glanced around the hall she was in and noticed they were in the corridor closest to Lord Stark's personal chambers. It was an area of the castle that only Lord Stark's family and people he summoned were allowed to enter. He wished to discuss her search for her guild mates with her without anyone overhearing them.

"If I do accept King Robert's offer, which I am still debating about," He continued, "I will need the best swordsman in the entire North to guard Sansa. I believe I have made my feelings clear about the Lannisters. And make no mistake, Robert may be king, but the Lannisters back him. They don't back anybody unless it serves their interest."

"Are you worried they might try something?" Erza asked.

"It is possible." Ned replied, "They have a history of doing underhanded deeds. And that is why I am asking you to be by Sansa's side through this."

Erza's mind was racing. Lord Stark still held trust in her despite everything that had occurred with her and Gray. She was honestly quite surprised. But she was also very concerned. Her eyebrows knitted together. How was this going to affect her search? If Lord Stark did become the Hand to King Robert, and she went with him to King's Landing, would it hinder or help her search for the others? She had to assume that the resources in Kings Landing were in much more plentiful supply than in Winterfell. But the question became, would she be allowed access to the resources she needed. As of now, she had free reign through Winterfell. So long as she continued to keep an eye on the Stark children, she was allowed to visit the rookery and see if any Ravens brought any news. She was allowed to go into the Maester's tower and research with Maester Luwin (though at this point she had already delved into all the books she could when it came to this world's realm of magic. It was a very limited selection). And if she found any leads, she was sure that Lord Stark would allow her to pursue them. Right?

Then another thought entered her mind. In her opinion, and certainly in Lady Catelyn's opinion, Erza had failed to protect Bran. What if she refused Lord Stark and she decided to remain here? Would Lady Catelyn still allow the privileges that Lord Stark had so graciously given? At this point, she was not certain. The Lady of Winterfell was far too busy worrying over Bran in order to worry about Erza's predicament. Then again, she didn't even know about Erza's predicament. The only people who knew that Erza was not from this world were Jon and Lord Stark himself. How would Lady Catelyn react once she found out. Because if Erza didn't go with Lord Stark to King's Landing, then she would find out eventually. Then what? So many what ifs, and all the solutions were hidden from the red head.

"If I go to King's Landing, will I be able to continue my search?" Erza asked.

"Of course." Lord Stark replied.

"I would have the resources to do everything I need to do?"

He pursed his lips, "I don't know. The King makes those decisions. That and you would no longer be dealing with Maester Luwin, rather you would be dealing with Grand Maester Pycelle. It is his knowledge you will be seeking and it is not my place to order him to help you. Especially if he is not allowed to know the circumstances of your search."

Erza frowned, "So my search will become more difficult."

"Hopefully not."

Erza nodded to herself. It would become more difficult. From the sounds of things, this Grand Maester and Lord Stark were not of the greatest of terms. She doubted she would get much help from the man named Pycelle. Lord Stark certainly seemed wary of anyone from the capital. Perhaps she should be just as cautious too.

Ned yawned and stretched his arms over his head. His dark eyes were barely staying open now.

"I guess I should get going then."

Ned nodded wearily, "Yes. Um… in the morning-"

"I'll make sure both Sansa and Arya are at their lessons with Septa Mordane." Erza reassured, "And I'll make sure Rickon and Shaggydog don't cause too much trouble. You should be with Bran and Lady Catelyn right now. Family comes first right?"

Ned nodded, "Right."

He turned on his heel and was about to head to his chambers when Erza's voice stopped him.

"Lord Stark?"

"Yes?"

"One more thing." Erza took a breath, "If I do go with you to Kings Landing, what will happen to Gray?"

Lord Stark's face hardened for a moment, "His sentence is his sentence. There is no changing it now."

Erza closed her eyes, "Very well." She turned on her heel, "Sleep well, Lord Stark."

Before the Lord of Winterfell could reply, the red head was marching in the opposite direction.

 _To hell with sleep!_ She thought as she made her way towards the main doors that led out to the yard.

She couldn't sleep now. Not with so many thoughts and worries bouncing around her mind. She needed clarity, a break, a chance to just breathe. And there was no better way of clearing her mind than the feeling of cold steel in her hands.

 **I LIIIIIIIIIVE! Sorry for the long wait on an update everyone! Life and work got really busy the past few weeks and it kept me from having any time to just sit down and write. Thankfully everything has settled down a little bit and I was finally able to get this chapter to paper. I intended for this one to go a bit further into the storyline, but like I said I am hesitant to make extremely long chapters. I'm sure how I would do at them. I don't know. If you guys want me to make longer chapters, I'll definitely try though! Who knows, maybe it'll work out really well. Anyways, let me know what you all think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	37. Levy VII

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Levy

Levy dipped her hands into the basin of cold water before quickly splashing over her face. The sleep in her eyes immediately disappeared as the water rushed down her gaunt face, dripping from her chin back down into the small copper basin. She ran a small hand through her blue locks then stared into a dull mirror that rested against the stone wall of her small room in the Greyjoy castle. They were starting to get long. Her hair used to sit just above her shoulders. Now those blue locks were falling over her shoulders and over her eyebrows. It had just occurred to her now that in all the months she had been stuck in this world, whether she was aboard the Silence or here on Pyke, she had not exactly been able to properly groom herself.

Although, a proper grooming for her would be a nice soak in her bath back in Fairy Hills. She would have it filled with bubbles, a book in one hand, the soap in the other. It would be warm. The distant sounds of Magnolia's nightlife filling her little bathroom. Perhaps she would hear one of the other girls in the rooms around her. Most likely it would've been Erza. She was always the loudest. All of her armors clanking and creaking as she rearranged, polished, then stored them yet again. But Levy never minded the noise.

She would give anything to hear the metallic squeaking of Erza's armor being cleaned. It would have given her a sense of normalcy at least. Maybe wake her up from whatever nightmare she had been living the past few months.

True, her conditions had improved. Yara was a hard woman, that much was a certainty. But she cared. And there was difference between the young daughter of Balon Greyjoy and her mad uncle. Yara would gladly spit in your face, punch you in the gut, step on a man's balls if needed in order to keep order on her ship. But once she did that, she would make sure you were tended to. She personally drilled her crew. Dined with them every night, despite the fact that she could eat at Balon Greyjoy's table and enjoy the finest food the Iron Islands had to offer (which wasn't much in Levy's opinion). No, she ate with her crew, laughed with them, drank with them. Yara Greyjoy wasn't just their captain, she was their comrade. Levy got the distinct sense that the Captain of the Black Wind would gladly die for one of her crew members, no matter how green they were.

And Levy was the greenest of the bunch. She had only joined the crew several days ago. But she hadn't met any of the crew yet. In the words of Barrock, Yara's first mate, they were enjoying and well deserved round of shore leave. In the words of Yara herself, they were fucking every salt wife and wench in sight for the week.

She could still hardly comprehend it. This was a city, no, a civilization of pirates and brigands. It's hierarchy consisted of rapers, pillagers, and murderers. Yet this place actually functioned. Levy was dumbfounded every time she thought about it. Back in Fiore, places like this would have been found and brought to a heel by a battalion of Rune Knights, or perhaps another legal guild. But here in Westeros, this was life. This was normal. And as much at it intrigued and appalled the bluenette, she would have to get used to it. For now she had no clue how she ended up here, let alone how to get back to Fiore. Levy knew she would be stuck here for a bit. So she had to do her best to adapt and hopefully overcome.

She tore her gaze away from the foggy mirror and reached over to a small coat hanger where a ratty, brown leather coat hung. She quickly slipped it over her bony shoulders. She winced a little as it passed over the many scars that lined her back. Those would never fully heal. Levy then took a deep breath, bent over, and slipped on a pair of old boots given to her by Yara.

They were a little too big for her. Her heel almost always slipped out of the boot every time she raised her foot. But they would have to do. Better these than to be barefoot on this rocky island.

 _I might be able to make my own shoes if I had my magic._ Levy thought to herself. She frowned as she tightened the laces on the boots, _A lot of things would be easier if I had my magic._

A short series of knocks rang out from her door. Levy jumped to her feet and strode over to the door. Just as she reached the doorknob, the door swung inward, nearly knocking Levy on her ass. Levy cried out as she stumbled backwards.

"Rise and shine, Levy!" Yara barked as she barged in.

Levy took a second to catch her breath, "Did you have to do that?"

Yara scowled at her, "You questioning your captain?"

Levy bit her lip, "No, ma'am."

"No what?"

"No captain!" Levy barked.

Yara nodded. A small smirk crossed her chapped lips, "That's what I thought." Levy noticed Yara was carrying a small burlap sack. The Captain glanced down at it before tossing it at the bluenette, "Pack yourself some clothes. We set sail in an hour."

Levy blinked, "Wait… what?"

"Don't question me." Yara hissed, "We set sail in an hour. Be at the ship by then. If your not, my father may give you to some small cocked fucker so you can be a salt wife."

Yara strode out of the room. As she walked away, Levy rushed over to her doorway and stared at her from down the hall.

 _S-saltwife?_ Levy thought. She blinked. She was about to sail on the _Black Wind._ But that meant-

"But I haven't even met the crew!" She exclaimed.

"You're about to." Yara replied. She never broke stride as she disappeared around a corner.

Levy gulped. Her hands gripped the small sack tightly. She closed her eyes and took several quick breaths.

 _It's ok, Levy._ She reminded herself, _It's going to be ok. It's just a boat. It's not like-_

She saw it again. The black sails. The mute men staring at her, their eyes filled with hate. _His_ smiling eye gleaming at her. His face filled with malice. She could feel her hands trembling. Before she could fall further down that nightmarish pit, she smacked herself across the cheek.

"Focus, Levy." She scolded herself. Levy took a deep breath then began packing what little clothes she had. Once she finished packing, she put out the small candle that lit her dreary room.

She rushed out of the castle down to the docks. As she dashed through the little village of Pyke, she passed by several downtrodden fishermen hauling their catch up from the docks. It had rained last night, so the work was already dreary and dull for the men of Pyke. Levy could feel her own light footfalls sinking several inches into the mud. She couldn't imagine how far the men's feet sank when they were carrying barrels, crates, carts, and nets.

Thankfully, she didn't have to stay in the soaked streets for long. Once she was on the dock, her muddy boots had a chance to dry off on the soppy wooden planks. Levy shifted the sack on her shoulder and gulped.

In front of her was a row a reaving ships. Each ship had its own name carved into it's hull. Reavers and sailors were hauling gear, weapons, and slinging ropes up onto the decks. Several of them paused and gave Levy a confused glance. Others looked at Levy with dangerous intent. She hastily broke eye contact with those men and began to scramble towards the Black Wind. In the background she could hear those dangerous men laughing at her.

The _Black Wind_ was an impressive vessel, especially for a reaving ship. She had a pair of large square sails which allowed her to be faster than almost any other ship when the wind was with her. Two dozen holes dotted the sides of the ship, a dozen on each side. Each hole was designed for a large oar to protrude out, slip into the water, and power the might vessel through the ocean. There was a small, cabin like structure on the upper deck. Levy recalled that was Yara's cabin.

As she got closer, she began to see the crew of the _Black Wind._ They were all hard at work. Several men used ropes to pull large crates and barrels onto the ship. Each container was loaded with provisions. Salted meat, dry biscuits, and maybe a few apples if they were lucky. It was almost like those books Levy read. The ones about buccaneers and swashbucklers on the high seas of Earthland.

Unlike those books though, none of these pirates were particularly dashing. Certainly none of them would be considered handsome in Fiore. Many bore scars, and scruffy beards that needed to be trimmed. Their faces were already covered in dirt and grime. Their hands were rough, blistered, and calloused from years of living on the sea. These weren't the romanticized pirated Levy had read about in hundreds of books. These were real pirates. Hard men who took what they wanted and gave nothing in return. Men who were unforgiving and brutal when they wanted to be.

As she approached, the men of the _Black Wind_ stopped and stared at her. Some were slack jawed, dumbfounded that a woman was joining their crew. Others eyes here with interest. Some were merely curious, other gave her looks that made Levy's spine crawl.

"What is she doing here?" She could hear some of them whisper.

"Blue hair? The fuck is a bitch doing with blue hair here?"

"I'd fuck her." She heard another mutter as she walked by.

"I'd join you."

"THERE'LL BE NO FUCKING OF FELLOW CREW ON MY SHIP!" Yara Greyjoys powerful voice belted out over the ship, "Not unless I give ya lot permission." She then pointed at Levy as she made her way up the gangway, "That little girl right there is our new greeny." She nodded over at a young boy who looked barely fourteen years old, "Congratulations, no more beatings for you."

The crew laughed at the boy's expense. Yara then clapped her hands. The laughter stopped. Every crewman's attention was on their captain.

"Listen up!" She barked, her hands rested on her hips, "Now I understand, our last voyage was rather disappointing." Levy heard some of the crewman reply quiet 'ayes' and curses. "But frankly, I had no idea that the Storm God himself was so damn fearful of us gaining riches beyond our wildest imaginations that he had to send the biggest fucking storm I'd ever seen to deter us!"

Levy heard some of the crew chuckle and clap. Despite gaining nothing from their last voyage, they still listened to their Captain. Levy couldn't help but wonder just how Yara Greyjoy was able to earn such respect from such fearsome men.

"So, as my version of an apology-"

"You'll say sorry?" A crewman in the back called.

"Fuck you!" Yara shouted back, causing the men to laugh loudly. "As I was saying, as my version of an apology, I gave you fucking lot a little shore leave." She nodded as some of the crew cheered, "So, I hope your balls are empty and your bellies are full. Cause we will be reaving come sunrise tomorrow!"

Levy jumped as a loud roar erupted from the crew.

"You lot will be taking a risk with me. For we are going to reave a nice little prize. One that if you survive, well, you'll be rich." Yara grinned at her crew, "We have been given the opportunity to raid the Westerlands!"

Surprised murmurs and excited conversation broke out among the crew.

"You know what that means!?" Yara continued, "It means gold!"

"AYE!" The crew cried.

"And lots of it!" Yara continued, "So get ready to pay the Iron Price. If you do, you'll be rich!"

The entire crew cheered loudly. And Levy could feel herself feeling invigorated by Yara's speech despite the loud profanity around her.

"Finish hauling up our provisions." Yara ordered, "First rowers will take the oars when we cast off. And get ready for some fun. Now back to it, you lot!"

"Aye captain!" The crew called back in unison.

Yara was about to turn back to Barrock when she stopped, "Oh and one more thing you shits!"

The crew paused yet again.

"If you find a bucket filled with Tywin Lannister's shit, congratulations, you would become the richest man in Westeros!"

The crewmen laughed loudly before returning to their duties. Meanwhile, Levy could only raise an eyebrow.

 _Huh?_ She wondered.

"Tywin Lannister shits gold." A feminine voice said to her right.

Levy glanced over to the see the hairless face of Qarl the Maid standing beside her. He was one of the few crew men that she had interacted with while she recovered on Pyke. That was mostly due to the fact that he seemingly visited Yara every night. And Levy knew why. But she kept her opinions to herself.

"What do you mean by that?" Levy asked.

"Lord Tywin Lannister is the richest man in Westeros." Qarl explained, "He's the Warden of the West, and Lord of Casterly Rock. Basically, he's a one powerful son of a bitch. And we are going to steal from him."

Levy gulped, "Fun." She replied sarcastically.

"Oh it will be!" Qarl grinned, not picking up on Levy's sarcasm.

"Hey!" Yara barked at both Qarl and Levy, causing the bluenette to jump and Qarl to sigh.

"Shit." Qarl mumbled.

Yara strutted up to the pair, "Just what are you two doing?"

"Uh-uh-" Levy stammered.

"Just showing the green girl the ropes, Captain." Qarl replied.

Yara arched an eyebrow, "I would say that's bullshit, but at this point, you'd laugh at that comment." Qarl smirked at her, "So instead, since you like Miss Levy so much, you get to row with her today."

Qarl's smirk ran away from his face. Meanwhile, Levy's eyes widened.

"R-row?" Levy asked.

Yara nodded, "Aye. Row." Her rough right hand reached out and snatched Levy's arm. Levy winced as Yara squeezed it tightly. "You've got no meat on your bones. You need muscles for reaving. Rowing is the best way to get that."

"Bullshit." Qarl coughed.

Yara glared at the man and Qarl quietly began to whistle to himself.

"Every green reaver starts of rowing, Miss Levy." Yara explained, "You're not special just because you don't have a cock between your legs. Even I started off rowing when I first sailed the seas. So you best get used to back breaking days, and sleepless nights. You're aboard my ship now. And every reaver must pull their own weight." She looked over at Qarl, "And you, you fucker, you will not only row with Miss Levy, but you will assist her in acclimating to the crew."

Qarl scratched the back of his head, "What exactly does acclimating mean, captain?"

Yara snarled, "Stay by her side so the men don't fuck her. _And_ make sure she learns to take care of herself." Levy's eyes widened with fear, "That is what acclimate means, Qarl."

Qarl smirked, "Aye captain."

Yara nodded, turned on her heel, then marched to her cabin. Once she disappeared inside, Qarl began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Levy asked fearfully.

"She puts on a great show." Qarl replied, "Then at night, when I'm on top of her, she screams like a virgin!"

Levy felt her cheeks suddenly heat up. Qarl laughed some more.

"Come on, Miss Levy. Help me haul the last of these crates. Then you and I get to row us out of this godsforsaken island."

Levy nodded then followed Qarl towards the men pulling the supplies aboard the ship. Up near the wheel of the ship, Barrock watched the two. He watched as Levy struggled to pull up even a single barrel from the docks. Her hands were constantly losing their grip on the cords and ropes that were used to pull the cargo aboard. He watched as the girl gasped for air and sweated gallons in the humid morning air. The old reaver could only click his tongue.

 _She better toughen up._ He thought to himself, _Or she'll be dead by tomorrow._

 **And chapter! This is a storyline that I am very excited to write! It's an offshoot of the main story for sure. A side adventure in a way. My own alteration to GOT canon. And it's going to be a fun one! Levy and Yara's friendship is something that I can't wait to piece together fully. I hope it comes together well for you guys. Anyways, let me know what you all think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed! Have a nice day!**


	38. Gray IV Erza XIII

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Gray; Erza

Gray's head snapped up when he heard the sound of the door to the castle dungeon's clicking open the clanking shut. He had been napping. The lack of an actual mattress didn't really help make it very comfortable, but he needed to sleep. When he wasn't eating, or physically training himself in this little ten by ten foot space he was napping. There was nothing else to do and boredom came very easily in this gloomy cell.

That boredom disappeared though whenever that door opened. His curiosity would be piqued at the idea of another criminal being jailed in here with him. What did he do? Poaching? Thieving? Murder? Did he just manage to get on Lord Stark's bad side like he somehow did? Gray still did not quite understand how that happened. A new prisoner would take some of the dull monotony away from his day.

But new prisoners in Winterfell were rare. It appears that the North held some genuinely good people. That, or Lord Stark was an iron fisted ruler. Gray tended to think the latter. After all, the man nearly took his head off for just helping a random stranger. That stranger did turn out to be a criminal, but how was he supposed to know that?

 _It's bullshit. That's what it is._ Gray thought to himself before sighing.

The sound of boots clicking against the stone floor made his heart leap in his chest. A smile crossed his lips as he saw Erza approaching his cell.

"It's been a while." He smirked.

"It's been two days." She snorted back before taking a seat outside of his cell.

Gray shifted. The iron clasps on his wrists were incredibly uncomfortable. He had gotten used to them in the months he had been held in here. But every now and then, he would feel some pain in his wrists. It forced him to shift his body to a new position, comfortable or not, in order to relieve the pressure.

"Two days is a while in here." Gray replied, "All I've got to do is workout, eat, sleep, or stare at the wall. Hours tend to drag when that's all you can do."

Erza nodded, "I know." Her eyes glazed over for a moment.

Gray knew that look. He wanted to kick his own ass for being so forgetful. Of course Erza understood what it was like being locked up like this. She had been a slave when she was a child. He gulped. He wondered how she really felt right now. He had no doubt that her seeing him in irons probably made the woman furious. And a furious Erza is a terrifying Erza.

If she was angry, she hid it surprisingly well. The lack of magic in this world tempered her… well… temper. Both Gray and Erza knew that they were not powerful here in Westeros. They were normal people now. One just so happened to be incredibly skilled with a sword. The other somehow managed to strip while being chained to a wall.

 _We both have our own amazing skills._ Gray laughed to himself before he motioned to Erza, "Anything interesting happen?" He asked, "I noticed a lot of activity lately."

"Well," Erza leaned back onto her hands, "The King is here in Winterfell."

Gray's eyes widened, "The King? Here?"

Erza nodded.

"Do you think you could manage to get him to pardon me?" Gray said jokingly.

Erza laughed. But it wasn't a hearty laugh like the one's Gray was used to hearing. It was hollow. Void of true joy. The events of the past half year were weighing heavily on Erza. There were bags under her eyes now. Everytime Gray saw her, they only seemed to grow larger. Then there was her sullen demeanor. Gray never knew Erza to be this… gloomy. It actually concerned him a great deal. Something was on her mind that was causing her a tremendous amount of stress.

"If only it were that easy." Erza replied.

Gray chuckled, "It never is. Even back home, it wasn't that easy." Gray felt his smile waver at the thought of home. The longer he was in this cell, the more he wondered.

Would he ever get home? From what Erza had told him a few days ago, her search had stagnated. There was no word on any of their friends. There seemed to be no information regarding magic or how they all ended up in this world. There was nothing. Nothing but the cold grey walls, cloudy skies, and frozen tundra of Winterfell.

Gray caught Erza picking at one of her fingernails. That was a new habit for her. Whenever she was in another place. Thinking about something that gave her some anxiety, she would start picking her nail. Gray was not even sure if she knew she was doing it. It was almost like his bad habit of stripping at random. He never knew he did it until someone pointed it out.

"Erza," The redhead's eyes returned to Gray, "What's wrong?"

Erza sighed, "A lot. Obviously." She took a breath, "The search is… fruitless. I can't find anyone."

Gray's eyes widened in surprise, "You aren't giving up are you?" He asked, "Cause the Erza I know-"

"Idiot." Erza spat back, "Of course I'm not giving up. If I give up then…" She took a breath, "Never mind that. What I should say is that I'm going to get no further here in Winterfell."

"Well, I could've told you that." Gray shrugged, "This place is apparently way out there compared to the rest of this world. There's no way any current news or information is reaching this place on time."

Erza nodded, "That's what I was thinking. So, I was considering striking out on my own." A look of worry came over Gray's face, "Combing Westeros for clues."

Gray narrowed his eyes, "Thinking?"

"Yes, thinking. Then," Erza pursed her lips, "Lord Stark came to me. He told me that King Robert wants him to be the new Hand to the King."

Gray arched his brow, "Hand to the King? What exactly is that?"

"Basically, from what I've seen of King Robert, the Hand is the crown-less king." Erza explained simply.

"Ah." Gray replied, "The Hand makes sure the country doesn't fall apart while the King looks pretty on the throne." He frowned, "That seems counterproductive to me. If the King is shit, then he shouldn't be king."

"Yeah, right." Erza snorted, "Good luck telling these people that. You'll really get your head chopped off then."

Gray laughed, "Look who's making the head chopping jokes now."

Erza glared at him. His laughter died in his throat.

"I apologize." Gray muttered.

Erza nodded then took a deep breath, "Anyways, I have a feeling Lord Stark is going to accept the King's request. The two are close friends. And with this arrangement, Lord Stark's daughter has the opportunity to marry the crown prince and become queen."

"An arranged marriage?" Gray cocked an eyebrow, "That's weird."

"Very." Erza agreed, "So, with Lord Stark becoming Hand to the King, he had to leave with the King and go south to the capital."

"That being?"

"A city called King's Landing." Erza answered.

Gray groaned, "Good grief. That's a bit egotistical don't you think?"

Erza shook her head, "Originally no. Apparently it is built on the spot where a man named Aegon the Conqueror landed for the first time in Westeros. Hence the name King's Landing. As I was saying, with Lord Stark becoming the new hand and having to go south with the King along with his daughter, Lord Stark has asked me to come with. He wants me to act as Sansa's bodyguard."

Gray frowned, "Isn't Sansa the one that hates your guts?"

Erza nodded.

"So why are you even considering this?"

"Because King's Landing may have the information I need to find our friends." Erza replied. Gray gave her a quizzical look, "Look Gray." Erza shifted in her seat, "King's Landing is the capital of Westeros. That means that it has travelers, traders, information brokers from all over the land. Add on to of that, when Lord Stark becomes hand he be able to give me access to more resources for my search."

Gray nodded, "Still, other than guarding a snotty little brat, there has to be some sort of catch to all of this."

Erza nodded, "King's Landing is… well, the only way to describe it is to say it's King's Landing. It is apparently a corrupt city." Gray's frown deepened, "Crime is high. Political corruption is rampant. Rival families continuously plot the demise of each others households." She smirked at Gray, "Fun stuff."

"Dangerous stuff." Gray corrected, "Lord Stark becoming Hand is going to put not only a massive target on his back, but yours too."

Erza quirked her brow, "What makes you think that?"

"Think about it," Gray leaned forward, "A female knight in a world where women are basically second class citizens. And not some random knight either, but a bodyguard to the next queen of the realm. Member of the Hand's household." Gray leaned back, "I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed. But I'm sharp enough to know that people are going to be asking questions about you. And they will not ask for answers. They will demand answers."

"I know it's risky." Erza replied, "But I'm more than capable of looking out for myself, Gray."

"I'm not saying you aren't. I'm just…" Gray exhaled, "Just be careful. Ok? Whether you go out on your own or go to King's Landing, please be careful. I've got a really bad feeling about this world. I don't want that bad feeling to be right."

Erza nodded. Then she smirked at Gray, "Is it a bad feeling? Or is that feeling just the cold kissing your ass?"

Gray gave Erza a confused look. The red head pointed at the wall across from him.

"Your clothes, Gray."

The ice make mage blinked. He then looked across the room and saw his pants laying in a heap against the far wall.

"HOW!?"

….

Two more days had passed. Gray had not received another visit from Erza. Just like before, the days were dull. He enjoyed what little sunlight came into his cell. He did some push-ups, sit-ups, and squats. Ate his meager meals. Slept. Then sat alone with his thoughts.

 _She's probably busy._ He thought to himself. He could feel his eyes beginning to slowly close. It is easy to fall asleep when you are bored. He had already stared at every crack, nook, and cranny in this cell. Hell, he even named the biggest crack. That name of course being Natsu.

 _Cause no one is a bigger ass crack than that idiot, pyromaniac, flame brain, ash mouth, little-_

The door the the dungeon's opened with a dull thunk. Gray jerked upright, his eyes opened wide. The door closed with a loud clunk. Firm footsteps echoed through the hall. The clink of chainmail followed it. Gray gulped and turned to the bars of his cell.

Standing on the other side were two Winterfell guards. Between them was a man clad in all black leathers and a black cloak. He was the skinnier version of Lord Stark. The First Ranger of the Night's Watch, Benjen Stark.

The sour man nodded. One of the guards jerked Gray's cell door open. The tall Night's Watchmen stooped down beneath the door frame and entered Gray's cell. He looked down at him with disdain.

"Get those irons off him." Benjen ordered the guards.

One of the guards hesitated, "Um, milord?"

"Do I need to say it twice?" Benjen growled. The guard bowed then scurried over to Gray. He fumbled with some keys before finding the one that unlocked Gray's chains, "As of today, this boy is property of the Night's Watch. And unless he does something particularly egregious, I will not see him in irons."

 _Was that sympathy from a Stark I just heard?_ Gray wondered to himself.

"What are you waiting for boy?" Benjen Stark asked Gray, "Up with you already. We are leaving." He turned towards the cell door.

Gray's eyes widened, "Leaving?"

Benjen turned back around, "Yes. Unless you prefer this cozy little cell. I can arrange to have a criminal like you stay here for a while longer. But you would lose your head in the end."

Gray gulped and rose to his feet. That was all the response Benjen Stark needed. The talk, weathered man turned on his heel and strode out. He fully expected Gray to follow him. It was not like the boy had much of a choice.

Gray took several cautious steps out of the cell. He could see the guard's eyes burrowing holes into him. Even after all these months, even after how well behaved he was (mostly due to Erza ordering him to behave himself), they still regarded him with disgust. Were all people in this world this close minded? Gray shook his head. If that was the case, then he was going to have a difficult time at the Wall.

The sunlight outside of the dungeon stunned Gray. It had been so long since he had been exposed to the sun directly that it nearly blinded him. Once he blinked the spots from his vision, he saw two horses waiting. Beside the horses were other prisoners. Some still had binds on. Others just shuffled their feet in the mud. Waiting patiently for Benjen Stark to order them north.

Gray sighed and followed Benjen to the horses. Just as he approached the second horse, Benjen yanked on his shoulder.

"That is not for you." He said gruffly, "You not a man of the watch yet. You have not earned the right to a horse." He pointed at the dozen other prisoners that chose the Watch instead of a punishment from Lord Stark, "You will walk, like the others."

Gray scowled. If he remembered correctly, the walk to the Wall took several weeks. Maybe longer? He was not sure. He didn't exactly follow the roads when he was fleeing the Wall with Will. The walk was not too bad then. But then again, he was actually in good physical condition back then. Sure he kept his body as strong as he could. But the lack of a balanced meal everyday really took a toll on his body. He looked down at his arms. They were much thinner than before. And so was his chest. He could make out some ribs starting to poke through the skin on his torso. But just barely. And-

"Boy!" Benjen barked.

Gray scowled, "What?"

"Where are your clothes?"

Gray blinked then bowed his head, "God Dammit."

….

Erza played with the knot of her coat. It sat just along her collarbone, which allowed the coat to give her plenty of protection from the cold winds of the North. She would be traveling along the Kingsroad for weeks, maybe even a month or two. This coat needed to be used properly if she was going to stay warm. It was soft, so it was comfortable. The fur was certainly warm. Erza was not sure if it was fur from a bear or something else. But regardless, it did the job. Lord Stark gave it to her when she agreed to accompany Sansa and him to King's Landing. A gift for her service.

It was not just those two riding South with the King though. Erza looked out over the courtyard and saw Jory Cassel preparing a fifty of Lord Stark's household guard for the journey.

 _Of course._ Erza thought, _With how much he distrusts the Lannisters, it would make sense for Lord Stark to bring some of his own men._

She took a breath and watched as the men sharpened their steel, polished their chain mail, and saddled their horses. Once Lord Stark had finished his goodbyes with his family, they would be departing. Erza had witnessed Sansa's teary goodbye with her Mother. Although Lady Catelyn was far more concerned about the still bedridden and unconscious Bran than Sansa or the rest of her children.

Erza had been the one watching Rickon most of the morning. The poor boy would not stop crying. He kept wailing about bad things happening if Lord Stark left Winterfell. Erza wanted to shake it off as nothing more than a child saying or doing whatever he could to prevent their father from leaving. But there was a sinking feeling in her gut.

She was not ignorant of this land's history anymore. She knew what happened to Starks when they went south.

They never came back.

Lord Stark's Father, his brother, his sister Lyanna Stark; all three went south some decades ago. All three died in the south. All three returned as bones in coffins.

Erza shivered as more cold wind brushed against her. Maybe there was some truth to baby Rickon's screams. This land was so full of superstition. And if what she read was true, that superstition was not unfounded.

Erza sighed. No, that's all it was. Superstition. The three Starks that went south died during a war. That was enough of an explanation there. Lord Eddard would be going south during peacetime with his friend, the King. Other than some Lannister mischief, Erza was not too worried about trouble.

Small footsteps rushed up beside her.

"I'm ready to go!" Arya Stark declared as she shouldered a small pack on her back.

Erza glanced down, "And who said you were coming along?"

Arya beamed, "Father."

Erza blinked, "Oh! Really?"

Arya nodded, "Yup! Although he said it was to make me a proper lady. Mother hopes that King's Landing will make me more like Sansa. You know, since I will have to be nice and polite around all those lords and ladies and the like."

Erza laughed, "Sounds like you are excited."

"For that no!" Arya protested, "But for the adventure, yes!" She looked up at Erza, "I mean, I get to be around the greatest Knight in Winterfell all day now." She jumped giddly, "Maybe along the road, you can teach me how to use a sword?"

Erza frowned, "I'm not sure your father would approve of that. Besides Arya you do-"

Arya reached into her pack and pulled out a small thin blade wrapped tightly in thick cloth.

"Tada!" She grinned.

Erza drew back, "Where on earth did you get that?"

"This is Needle!" Arya replied. She glanced around before carefully stashing it back in her bag, "Jon gave it to me. As a going away gift."

"Ah." Erza replied.

Of course Jon gave Arya something like that. Those two may not be related by name, but they were almost definitely related by blood. Both went against the grain when it came to what was expected of them in society. Jon was allowed to grow up with the Stark family unlike a normal bastard. And Arya wanted to be a knight instead of a princess.

"Well, Arya." Erza continued, "If you get permission from your father, I'd be more than happy to teach you a little bit."

"Really!?" Arya's eyes widened.

The red haired knight nodded, "Yes. Now go finish packing. I'm sure your father is almost ready to leave."

Arya nodded, "Aye sir!" She turned and rushed back into the caste, her pack jingling and jangling from whatever she had managed to stuff in there. Erza could not help but smile at the little girl sprinting away. She lived for adventure.

 _The more I stay here, the more I see my friends in these people._ Erza thought to herself.

The castle door opened once again. This time it was Jon stepping out. Erza turned and gave him a smile. Her grin faded though when she saw the frown on his face.

"What's the matter now?" She asked.

Jon huffed, "Nothing. Nothing." He shook his head, "It's hard saying goodbye, that's all."

Erza arched an eyebrow. There was more to this. But if Jon didn't want to talk about it, then she would not pry.

"So…" Erza popped her lips, "Lovely weather we're having."

Jon glanced at her, "We've resorted to discussing the weather have we?"

"Well," Erza pinched the bridge of her nose, "Sorry. I just- I'm not exactly sure what to talk about. I mean, I don't know if you want to talk about the Wall. I mean you are going there and-"

"And not alone apparently." Jon interrupted.

"Well obviously." Erza agreed, "Your uncle, Gray, some prisoners, they're all going."

"You forgot one."

"Who?"

Jon frowned, "Tyrion Lannister."

Erza drew back, "That little man is joining the Night's Watch?"

Jon shook his head, "Of course not. No, he just wants to see the wall. That, and if I heard him talking to his brother Jaime correctly, he wants to piss off the edge of the world."

Erza snorted, "Of course he does. He seems to be a rather disgusting creature." _Reminds me a great deal about another little troll back home. Only somehow, Tyrion Lannister has a better sense of personal space._

The thought of Ichiya Kotobuki made a shiver run up Erza's spine. An entire world away and Erza still was terrified of that pig of a man.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked, noticing her shiver.

"Hm? Yes!" Erza recovered quickly, "Totally fine! Not thinking about something from my world or anything like that! Nope! Not at all!"

Jon narrowed his eyes at her, "You're lying."

Erza sighed, "Maybe a little." She folded her arms, "The Imp reminds me of a… comrade back home." She shuddered, "I don't exactly have good things to say about him."

"Ah. So there is someone you fear back home?" Jon teased.

"Hardly!" Erza spat back, "He's just… someone who is very good at getting on my bad side."

"Mmm… sure." Jon nodded before adjusting his coat. The pair saw Lord Stark emerge from the castle and move towards his Horse. Sansa had already gone ahead to sit with Queen Cersei in the queen's wheelhouse. Arya was running along her father's side. Ready to ride with him away from home. Jon took a breath.

"It looks like we're leaving."

Erza nodded, "Aye." She nudged his shoulder, "Ride together one more time?"

Jon gave her surprised look, "After how furious you were with me for going to the Night's Watch, you want to ride alongside me still."

Erza shrugged nonchalantly, "We're friends. Of course I'd want to ride alongside you." Erza moved towards the stables, "Hurry up! I don't want to be in the back of the pack."

Jon's eyes followed her as she walked away. He shook his head. How in the world did he end up making a friend like her? He felt a ball of fur nudge his knee. Jon glanced down and saw the red eyes of his direwolf, Ghost, staring up at him.

"You want me to hurry up and follow her too?"

Ghost nudged his knee again.

Jon shook his head and walked towards the stable. Ghost padded alongside him.

"Clearly you have better instincts about this sort of thing than I do."

….

Gray glanced over at the column far ahead of his own. The King's party. The one's heading back south. He envied them in a way. They were going somewhere much warmer, and safer, than the Wall. He was not worried too much about the cold. He'd be damned if he let the cold get to him and still call himself an Ice Make wizard. Not that anyone else knew that little tidbit about himself in his group of prisoners.

They were a motley group of men compared to the King's party. Instead of Knights in white armor or men at arms bearing the Direwolf, Gray and the other future men of the Night's Watch were clad in rags. Thin rags that barely kept out the cold of the North. Then there was Benjen Stark at the front. He rode his horse tall, his black cloak and leather armor neatly polished. They were riding near the King, so as a representative of the Night's Watch, he had to look his best.

Then there was the strangest addition to their group. A dwarf. He wore rich velvet clothes and a thick fur coat over his small shoulders. His horse was actually a simple pony with a strange saddles strapped over it. The saddle was no doubt made specially for the man. Which gave him an even larger aura of both importance and pomp. The other prisoners scowled at the dwarf, but Gray merely looked at him with curiosity. A curiosity that the little man quickly picked up on.

"If you are wondering, no." The dwarf said to Gray, catching the Raven haired boy off guard, "I'm not joining the Night's Watch."

Gray arched an eyebrow, "How did you know I was going to ask that?"

The dwarf smirked, "It was written all over your face. The rest of this rabble want to gut me for being a rich Lannister. But you, no. You are more interested in who I am individually as well as how I would be an asset to the Watch." The small man nodded his enormous head, "I'd say out of this entire group traveling with us, you will be the one to survive in the end."

"What makes you say that?" Gray asked as he walked alongside the slowly trotting pony.

The dwarf leaned to the side, "Because, I have a talent for reading people, Mr. Gray Fullbuster." Gray gave the dwarf a surprised look, causing the man to smile, "And I also have a talent for doing my research. All these other prisoners are fairly common." He glanced back at them, "Thieves, rapers, poachers, I think I saw a murderer in the dossier as well, but then I saw you. Convicted for assisting a deserter. Rather strange crime I say."

Gray snorted, "You're telling me."

"So you think it's rather unjust as well?"

Gray felt Benjen Stark look back at him. The First Ranger's eyes then returned to the road.

"I'm not sure." Gray answered carefully.

The dwarf grinned, "Ah yes. I'm going to like you." He held out his hand, "Tyrion Lannister."

Gray gripped the dwarf's hand, "Gray Full- wait a minute you already know my name!"

"Ah but this is a much more proper introduction, don't you agree." Tyrion replied, "So Gray Fullbuster, are you from the North?"

Gray hesitantly nodded, "Aye. From the town just outside of Castle Black." He lied.

"Mole's Town?" Tyrion replied with surprise, "Not a lot of children come out of Mole's Town. Certainly not many as intelligent as you obviously are. That place is mostly whore's, harlots, and drunkards." The imp tilted his head to the side, "Maybe a fair amount of children do come from that cesspool now that I think about it. Anyways, I do plan on visiting that town. Perhaps you could point me to the best brothel there?"

Gray's cheeks reddened.

"Or perhaps not." Tyrion shrugged, "You've never had a woman before have you?"

Gray frowned, "No."

"Not even Miss Scarlet?"

Gray frowned turned into a snarl, "You watch your mouth."

Tyrion narrowed his eyes, "I'm not sure if that is a yes or a no."

"It is a firm no!" Gray snapped.

"But a definite wish?"

Gray opened then closed his mouth. He wasn't going to argue with Tyrion on that one. The man seemed to be able to read him like a children's book. No matter how Gray replied, the dwarf was one step ahead of him in the conversation.

"Don't be embarrassed about it, my friend." Tyrion laughed, "We all have first loves. Some attain them. Others well," Tyrion shrugged, "They watch that first love slip away with another."

Both he and Gray looked up the rode to see the King's party coming to a stop at a fork in the road. Gray could see a knight with long red hair near the rear of the King's Party. Beside her was the man Gray assumed was Jon Snow. He had never met the guy, but from how Erza described him, he seemed to fit the bill. A lean young man with black hair, and a dark beard. Although his beard seemed more like stubble to Gray. Perhaps he shaved it recently? Gray frowned as Erza shook her head and smiled at something Jon said.

"I would not get to jealous." Tyrion advised before tapping Gray's shoulder. Gray glanced over to see the dwarf holding small bottle out to him. Tyrion tapped his shoulder again, urging him to take a drink. Gray obliged. He cringed as the burning alcohol ran down his throat.

"Why not?" Gray asked.

"Because Jon Snow is just as fucked as you are my friend." Tyrion replied.

Gray looked up. Jon Snow had turned his horse and was about to ride towards the group when he stopped beside Lord Stark. The pair rode away from the rest of the King's Party for a moment. Both engrossed in a private conversation that even Erza was not allowed to hear.

"Last words between father and son." Tyrion said.

Gray arched an eyebrow. There was a sarcastic wit in Tyrion's words, but for some reason there was also a small amount of… Gray smirked.

"I wouldn't get too jealous." Gray said before tossing the bottle back up to Tyrion.

The dwarf jerked in his saddle, "Well… that has to be the first time someone got the better of me like that." Tyrion then chuckled and chugged his drink, "Ser Benjen!"

"I'm not a Ser, Lord Tyrion." Benjen Stark replied.

"Quite." Tyrion nodded, "I do hope that the men of the Night's Watch have good drink." Tyrion swirled his bottle and frowned, "I seem to be burning through my supply."

"There's ale." Benjen replied. "And that is about it."

Tyrion cringed, "I supposed I shall have to get used to an acquired taste." Tyrion pocketed his bottle then smirked, "And here comes the last member of our party."

Gray looked back up ahead. Jon Snow was spurring his horse towards Benjen Stark. Sprinting alongside Jon Snow, was what looked like a big white dog. Or was it a wolf? Gray wasn't sure but whatever it was, it was big and had some large teeth.

When Jon got to his Uncle, the Bastard of Winterfell shook Benjen's hand.

"Ride alongside the Imp." Gray heard Benjen order his nephew, "I'd prefer to keep the horses in the front. Away from the rest of the rabble."

Jon nodded, "Yes Uncle."

"That's yes sir." Benjen corrected, "I'm not your uncle at the wall. I'm your superior now. Remember that."

Jon gave the man a hesitant nod. Gray rolled his eyes. Were all Stark's so rigid and morbid? He sighed. This was going to be a rough time at the wall if he was supposed to stay close to Jon and Benjen. Then again, if he didn't, Erza would kick his ass for not listening to her.

 _Yeah… as dull as these Stark's are, I'd prefer life over Erza's form of punishment._ Gray shuddered before sighing.

Jon Snow rode up alongside the Tyrion. The pair exchanged nods before the Imp offered Jon his bottle. A gesture the dark haired man declined.

"Very well." Tyrion remarked before looking down at Gray, "He's just as droll as his father isn't he?"

Gray chuckled while Jon gave both him and Tyrion and furious look.

"Oh relax, Jon Snow." Tyrion smirked, "I jest. Someone has to among this band of ne'er do wells and nobodies. I swear, you all act like you are riding to face the headsman's axe." He sipped his bottle, "I can assure you, it's much worse than that. So with that knowledge, laugh a little. Before the cold freezes your lungs at the Wall. That or…" Tyrion glanced back at the criminals still in irons behind him, "before one of your _brothers,_ decides to take that lovely fur coat you have Jon. Is it wolf skin?"

Jon ignored the Imp as their group started forward again. Instead of turning South with the King's party, Benjen directed the group North towards the cold grey skies that lumbered over where the Wall surely sat.

Just as the pair had started up the Kingsroad, Gray, Jon, and Tyrion heard a woman's voice cry out behind them.

"JON SNOW!"

The entire party cast a brief glance back before continuing. But Jon, Tyrion, and Gray paused. Behind them, Erza had stopped riding south. She sat on her horse, facing the trio. She pointed directly at Jon before smiling and raising the index finger on her right hand to the sky.

Gray's eyes widened. That gesture. He knew it anywhere.

 _Even if I can't see you; no matter how far away you may be; I will always be watching you._

Gray could feel his jaw falling. That was a gesture made between mages of the Fairy Tail guild. A sign between them all that they had each other's backs. That they were never alone.

Did Jon Snow really mean that much to Erza? He looked over at his future brother in black. He seemed confused. Obviously Erza had never told him the significance of such a gesture. He looked over at Tyrion, who seemed just as puzzled yet greatly intrigued by the red haired woman in the distance.

 _Oh this idiot!_ Gray thought before he elbowed Jon's leg.

"Hey!"

 _If he means this much to you Erza, then I'll do my part._

"You better return it." Gray advised Jon.

Jon gave Gray a confused look before he looked back to Erza. Hesitantly, he mimicked her gesture. The smile on Erza's face widened. She lowered her hand, snapped the reigns on her horse, then raced after the King's Party.

Jon lowered his hand as Erza faded into the distance.

"I'm not sure what just happened." He muttered.

"And I'm thoroughly perplexed." Tyrion concurred.

Gray shook his head before turning on his heel, "C'mon, we're falling behind the others."

Jon nodded, turned his horse, and rode north.

 **I'm back…. Again! I'm so sorry for the wait on a new chapter you guys. Life had been well, life. Nothing like getting smacked around by unforeseen circumstances and such. It's been a hellish past few months. I have not forgotten about this story at all. I've just been soooo busy with a whole lot of shit that I haven't really had the time to just sit down and put this chapter to paper.**

 **I also did take a small break from working on this story just to recharge and regroup. The last thing I want happening is getting burnt out and loosing where I was going with this story. So I bounced over to the original novel I've been working on for what seems like forever. But in the past month, I've actually gotten three chapters of my rough draft written. So yeah, that's where I've been spending my non work, non errand, free time.**

 **Anyways, enough about me. This chapter… I love this chapter. This was so much fun to write. It had me smiling and laughing as I wrote it. Ah….**

 **You all are going to hate me come the end of Season 1….**


	39. Gray V

A Song of Fairies

Part 1: A Game of Thrones

Gray

The morning air brought with it a cold chill that sank deep into Gray's skin. He let out a sharp breath as he was violently awoken by this world's frozen fingers slipping beneath his meager blanket. The others around him were rising as well. All of them groaning and wincing as they sat up from the frost covered ground. But Gray was not complaining. The cold pulled him free of a nightmare.

He had seen it again. The White Walker, or whatever it was. The monster he had seen beyond the Wall. It originally played out the exact same in his mind. All the way up until poor Will distracted the demon. Then Gray tried to use his magic. But it did not work. Instead, he stood there. Watching horrified as the demon ran Will through.

Then it turned to him. Icy eyes burrowing holes through him. He swore he saw the thing smile at him. Then he woke.

Gray grimaced as he pushed himself up off of the ground. As he sat up, a frozen wind whipped around the small encampment. Putting the last embers from last night's fire out. Gray sniffled and rose to his feet. Joints popping and groaning. Muscles straining and snapping. Castle Black may be a bleak place in his mind. But they had beds. And he was very excited to finally have one once again.

"Fullbuster." The firm voice of Benjen Stark said.

Gray glanced back at the man. The first ranger was at the rear of their camp. A precaution in case anyone decided to make a run for it. No one wanted to run north. Freedom was to the south. Wilderness everywhere else. Gray was surprised no one did try to run. They had been traveling for five days now. And not a single one of these prisoners attempted to overpower or outsmart the ranger in black.

He saw Benjen give him a stiff nod. Gray gave him a puzzled expressions.

"Clothes, Fullbuster." Benjen finally growled, "Gods dammit boy. I'd think you'd show some sanity and rid yourself of that habit as it got colder."

The ranger strode past Gray towards where the horses were tied up. The Imp's pony snorted and stamped it's foot as Benjen approached. But a gentle pat on it's muzzle calmed the beast. The other two horses were calm as could be around Benjen Stark. Clearly used to being in his company.

Gray rolled his eyes and scanned the ground. Starks, horrible with people, great with animals. He glanced around him and quickly found his thin shirt and pants. Provided to him by the wonderful Night's Watch, since he managed to lose his own after the very first night.

"It's not fair I say." He heard one of his future brother's in black grumbled nearby.

Gray followed the man's gaze to the very end of the camp. Sitting near the small stream they camped by, was a little red and gold tent with one occupant in it.

"The Imp gets special treatment." The prisoner growled, "Warm tent, warm food." He spat, "I have half a mind to-"

"Do what?" Gray interrupted, "Get yourself killed."

The man gave him a dangerous look. But Gray just shrugged.

"You know that's what would happen. You'll either get killed by Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows over there," He pointed at Benjen, "or beheaded by the Imp's rich daddy." He noticed a couple of the other prisoners chuckled a bit, "Take your pick. Either way, you lose."

"Either way, I get the satisfaction of gutting someone again." The man replied dangerously.

Gray froze a little. Tyrion did mention some days back that a murderer was among their company. He had thought the Imp was simply trying to frighten him. A veiled attempt at humor even.

 _Clearly I need to stop thinking the guy is a liar._

"Perhaps I'll start with you." The prisoner growled.

Gray stood tall, "With me?" he laughed a little but let the conversation die there. This psychopath was a waste of his time.

He glanced around the camp one more time. The other, more cooperative men were gathering up the supplies and packing away the campsite. Making ready to continue north to the Wall. Everyone seemed to be awake, save for the Imp and-

Gray scowled, stomped across the camp, around the cold fire pit and up to a lone figure still lying down on the cold ground. A mess of curly black hair covered his head. The neatly trimmed beard he had when they first started traveling was starting to grow thicker as the days went by. He had the look of a rugged man, at least in Gray's eyes. But Jon Snow still acted like he had the luxury to sleep as long as he wanted.

"Jon." Gray used his foot to nudge the man's shoulder.

Jon Snow grumbled and rolled over on the ground. Gray pursed his lips.

In the days since they had started north, he had taken it upon himself to watch Jon's back. He felt he had to in way. The guy was important to Erza. A friend to her in a harsh world where she likely had very few. Any friend of hers was therefore a friend of his. But Jon was beginning to test Gray's patience.

They did not speak to each other. Not often anyways. Most of the time they would communicate when doing tasks for their little caravan. Benjen Stark often paired the two boys together when they needed to forage for food or start a fire. A circumstance that puzzled Gray given the gruff nature of the First Ranger, as well as his not so nice demeanor towards him in particular.

Gray sighed as Jon mumbled then rolled over.

 _I'm not playing today._

Instead of nudging him a second time, Gray reared back and buried his foot in the bastard's side.

Jon's eyes flew open and he let out a hoarse cry before coughing hard several times.

"Get up already dammit." Gray grumbled, "Before the murderer among us thinks he has an opportunity."

"M-murderer?" Jon sputtered as he bolted upright, blinking sleep out of his eyes, "But I thought-"

"He was actually telling the truth. Now get up!"

"I would listen to him, Jon Snow."

Both boys turned to see Tyrion Lannister waddling towards them. Already dressed, hair brushed out of his face, coat thrown over his stunted body. He had risen earlier than Gray thought.

"Both of you will find that I am actually a rather truthful person when I choose to be." He rubbed his hands together. Attempting to fight of the freezing air. "I had to take a piss." Tyrion briefly explained. He had noticed Gray's surprised expression, "It is one of the few things that can actually rouse me this early. That and your dour jailer's voice."

"My uncle is not a jailer." Jon said.

"He isn't? Then this isn't a caravan of prisoners marching to their new cells at the Wall. No this must be a traveling circus. Pardon me for confusing the two. Both are not so different. There seem to be plenty of fools in our company." Tyrion nodded, "So what would do you call him?"

"Save the bickering please." Gray groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't want to deal with the headache."

"The First Ranger of the Night's Watch." Jon snarled before jumping to his feet to stand over the little Lannister, "And my Uncle."

Tyrion smirked up at him, "Fancy titles for a jailer." He patted Jon's arm and strode past him towards the horses.

Before Jon could even move, Gray grabbed him by his arm.

"Don't-"

"You think he can disrespect my family and get away with it?" Jon snarled.

Gray blinked, "Yes. He can, and he will. And unless you want to actually have your Uncle become _your_ jailer I suggest you watch your temper."

Jon narrowed his eyes, "And why do you care?"

Gray shook his head, "Come on. Let's finish packing."

Jon frowned as Gray began to march back towards the rest of the camp.

"Hey!" Jon barked, "That's not an answer."

Gray's shoulders sagged, "You want an answer?" He spun on his heel to face Jon, "The answer is simple. I care, because Erza cares. And if she wasn't involved in this then I would have happily let you make a complete and utter fool of yourself. Sure as shit would save me a headache. However, it just so happens, that I care about Erza being at least a tad bit happy. Even if she isn't around right now. And I think she'd be much happier if she knew that I at least watched your back and kept you from stepping into anything stupid." Gray huffed, "Come to think of it. If she was here right now, she probably would have smacked you upside the head. My approach is actually nicer."

Jon scowled, "I think she would have stood by me and defended my Uncle's honor."

Gray snorted, "You're delusional, lover boy. And do you want to know how I know that? Because I've known Erza since we were kids. You've known her all of what? Half a year?" Gray let out a quiet, exasperated laugh, "Don't tell me how my family would act."

"Alright you lot!" Benjen's voice rang out before Jon could reply, "No rest tonight. The Wall is just a dozen or so miles north. We walk until we reach Castle Black!"

"Or in my case ride." Tyrion grinned as he pulled himself up into his special saddle. Once on top he uncorked a wine skin and pressed it to his lips. A satisfied sigh left his chest as he gulped down the drink, "I'm ready whenever you are, Ser Benjen."

Benjen frowned as he mounted his own horse and turned it north, "I'm not a Ser."

He snapped the reigns and began trotting up the road. Behind him, the small column of rag covered prisoners trudged along.

….

Gray winced. His feet were starting to ache. He thought that he would already be used to walking these ridiculous distances by now. Hell, he had walked further back home in Fiore. Then again, back home, he had his magic. A wizard's physical abilities were bolstered by their magic. Or so the theory goes, if he remembered his master's teachings correctly. It was why he was able to withstand the cold so well. His ice magic allowed him to endure temperatures that most human beings would have succumbed to in minutes.

But in a world that lacked magic, how long could that endurance last?

 _I think I'm starting to find out._ Gray thought to himself as he felt a throbbing pain race up from his heel to his hip.

His mind was torn away from the pain though as he heard the Imp shuffle on his mount. He glanced up to see the little man reach for a small pouch on his saddle. Gray was expecting him to grab his wineskin yet again. With how much he had already drank from it, Gray was surprised that he had not fallen from his saddle yet. But instead, Tyrion pulled out a small, leather book from the pouch. Tyrion then rested back in his saddle, let the reins sit loosely in one hand, and held the book open in the other.

Jon glanced over at Gray. The dark haired boy just as surprised as Gray.

"If you two wish to know, I am more than capable of reading and riding." Tyrion announced over his shoulder. He folded the book in his hand and twisted around to glance at the two, "It's a skill that took several weeks to master. But when one travels often, one tends to grow bored. Hence…" He held the book up and smiled, "My entertainment beyond the wine. And sometimes with." He flipped the book back open to the page he had been on. As his eyes roved the page he cleared his throat, "Do either of you read?"

Jon opened his mouth, "I-"

"Well of course you do." Tyrion cut him off, "You grew up in a castle. Among the Stark children no less. I'd think it a crime if you could not at least read simple sentences. But what about you, Gray?"

Gray shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" Tyrion replied.

"I know how to read. I'm not stupid." Gray remarked, "Just don't do it very often."

Tyrion winced, "An even worse crime than not being capable of reading."

Gray frowned, "How so?"

"Well, not many in Westeros have the great fortune of being as educated as you obviously are." Tyrion replied, "They do not have the opportunity to further their own learning on their own. You my friend, are misusing a valuable gift. I suggest changing that."

Gray shrugged, "I just don't see the point. Why read when I can get better at other things?"

"And by other things I assume you mean chopping another man's head off?"

Gray paled a little. Tyrion rolled his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that. Your curious stripping habit allowed me to be able to see some rather impressive scars on your body. You can't tell me that you got those from falling down some stairs. I'm not that easily fooled." He turned a page in his book, "Scars like that come from one thing only. And that thing is battle."

"Or a good brawl." Gray shrugged.

"But a battle nonetheless." Tyrion remarked, "Now to answer the questions as to why you should read, let me give you some advice. Everyone is good at something. But everyone can be surpassed at that very thing they think they are good at. So one must practice all they can in order to ensure that they are never overtaken. Take my own family for example. My father is as cunning as they come. My sister likes to think she inherited that nagging trait so she attempts to emulate him in any way she can. Practice her… how do I put it?" Tyrion sipped on his wineskin before turning another page, " Being a-"

"A bitch?" Jon finished for him.

Tyrion choked on his wine for a moment. He breath sputtering as he tried to contain his laughter. When he finally managed to swallow the wine, he took a hoarse breath and smiled back at Jon.

"I see you have met my sister." He laughed.

"We crossed paths back in Winterfell. Didn't talk, but I could just tell by the way she treated the guards."

Tyrion nodded, "Nevertheless, she grows more ruthless by the day. That for her is practice. She builds on her strengths. Now, as I was saying. You have that. Then you have my brother Jaime. A knight of the realm. Member of the King's Guard. A great warrior if there ever was one."

"A Kingslayer." Jon interrupted.

Tyrion winced, "I would not say that to his face if I were you. And that goes for you as well Gray. I like both of you, I would rather not see you get killed."

"And what makes you think he'd be able to best me?" Gray asked.

Tyrion shrugged, "It's simple, he practices. Or at least, he used to practice. I dare say he may have gotten a touch lethargic in the past few years. He has put on a couple pounds. Peacetime tends to do that to knights I'm afraid. But when we were at war, you would be hard pressed to find anyone who could best him. Now why, you might ask? Because Jaime treated practice as seriously as I treat reading. He studied swordsmanship. Committed his very soul to it. So much so that he became arguably the best in all the seven kingdoms." He flipped a page, "Even to this day, I doubt anyone could best him."

"I bet Erza could." Jon muttered under his breath.

"No doubt there." Gray nodded, "I saw that Jaime Lannister as we left Winterfell. All style, no substance." He smirked at Jon, "He's just a blonde pretty boy."

"Not wrong there either." Tyrion chuckled, "So you have those two. Then you arrive little, monstrous me. The one who doesn't have the cunning and ruthlessness of my sister, nor the physical abilities of my brother. So what must I do in order to ensure not only that I am the best at something, but that I can survive if things were to go wrong for me on my travels." He patted the page of his book, "I invest my time in gathering knowledge. For you see, cunning can only get you as far as your ambition lets you. But once you pissed off the wrong person, cunning doesn't work anymore. Violence tends to work well in a pinch. But if you are not gifted, you may as well dig the grave for yourself. But knowledge is something that can be a weapon for anyone. And it can be used in anything."

"Knowledge is power." Gray nodded, recalling hearing that several times throughout his life.

Tyrion snapped his fingers, "Precisely my point. And in order to expand my knowledge and sharpen my brain, I read. A book is a whetstone for the mind. It keeps it sharp just as a grindstone does for a sword." Tyrion closed his book with a dull clap, "And that is my advice to both of you."

Gray nodded, "You could have spared the stories and just gotten to the point."

"And where is the fun in that?" Tyrion grinned. He reached his wine skin again. Just as he pressed it to his lips though he stopped, "I'll be damned that's enormous!" He breathed.

Gray blinked, confused. Then he followed both Jon and Tyrion's gaze. And his jaw dropped.

The last time he passed by the Wall, well underneath to be more accurate, it had been dark out. He could not have seen just how massive the Wall truly was. But in the daylight it was sight to behold.

It was unlike anything Gray had ever seen. A massive structure that looked like it was a solid block of ice. It towered so high into the sky that even at this distance, it still looked unfathomably tall to Gray. Like a small mountain jutting up out of the frozen plains. The sun's rays hit the Wall and caused the ice to shimmer like a jewel. A sight that almost took the ice mage's breath away.

Sitting at the foot of the shimmering, crystal like wall. Like a speck of dark soot in an otherwise perfect layer of snow, was a castle with no walls. A gray, foreboding structure that promised bleak days for all who came into its clutches.

"Castle Black." Jon breathed beside Gray.

Gray gulped then nodded. There was his new home. He hoped it would be a temporary arrangement. That Erza would somehow find the others and discover a way home in the process. If anyone could do it, she could. Nevertheless, Gray could not help but feel great unease as he stared at what was to be his new prison.

He could tell Jon was thinking the same thought. The boy who had been so enamored at the prospect of joining the watch when they had begun their journey had slowly seen his fantasies be torn down by reality. The Watch were not an honorable collective of knights dedicated to defending the land. They were criminals. Imprisoned away from society in the harshest conditions one could possibly find. And their home was not a strong castle with tall walls and ballasts. It was broken down stone shell of a structure. Beaten and shattered by the relentless cold and even more relentless apathy of the men at the Wall.

"Regret your decision now?" Gray asked Jon.

Jon did not reply. He continued marching along.

Tyrion leaned down from his saddle.

"I don't know about you two, but I think I am going to enjoy this." He smiled before taking another sip of wine.

Gray balled up his fist. As entertaining as the Imp could be, he was such an asshole.

"Well, when we arrive. I will get the most important thing out of the way." Tyrion remarked.

"That being?" Gray asked.

"Finding and fucking the nearest girl in sight." Tyrion grinned.

"There's no women allowed at the Wall." Jon replied.

Gray had to suppress a laugh when he saw Tyrion's horrified expression.

"Never mind then." The Imp sighed, "I suppose if I get drunk enough, it won't matter." He wrinkled his nose, "Then again, they only have ale at Castle Black. According to your Uncle at least." He frowned then smacked his lips, "At least we will all be miserable together."

Gray snorted then snatched the wine skin from Tyrion's grasp, "I'll drink to that."

Because gods knew, he needed something to numb him for the rest of the day.

 **HOLY SHIT! It has been a minute! Hello everyone! I am in fact not dead, shockingly. I want to apologize for the ridiculously long wait for an update. My life kinda imploded there for several months. During which time several job changes, more than one financial crisis, a move across the country, and straight up stress have kept me from being able to put anything down on paper. And as much as I wanted to update this, I could not bring myself to have the energy to do it for a loooooong time. There is so much meticulous planning and backtracking and planning and research and planning…. whew!(I NOW UNDERSTAND WHY GRRM TAKES SO DAMN LONG TO WRITE HIS BOOKS). But now, things are finally starting to settle down again. The stress is significantly less than the past few months which means my head is finally clear enough to start writing again (Thank god!) Anyways, before I go, if I fail to update before then I just want to say, Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Enjoy the turkey, the awkward family conversations, the football, and the food coma afterwards! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Have a nice day!**


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